SWITCHBLADE SERENADE
by Alexokerry
Summary: The Kittens and Swartz have a varity of meetings and things go from bad to worse.
1. Chapter 1

**SWITCHBLADE SERENADE**

****

_**The sound you hear is the knife cut,  
Switchblade serenade**_

_**The sound you hear is the knife cut,**_

_**Switchblade serenade….CUT!**_

Yohji stumbled into the safety of the Koneko right behind the others. It was well after midnight and their latest mission had finally come to the usual end. The target died, gasping out his last breath while begging the tall blonde for mercy, neatly garroted by the wire that lay hidden in his watch. The original plan called for Aya to skewer the underworld filth with his katana, but Crawford and the rest of Schwartz showed up and made faking it inevitable. So, while the fierce redhead and the dark-haired American traded sharp retorts and even sharper blows from their weapons, Yohji slipped past Mastermind, Prodigy and Berserker and made their presence superfluous by exterminating their employer.

The building had gone up in a spectacular fountain of flames, smoke and flying debris (just like always) and the exhausted team returned to the protection of their everyday lives in the Koneko. Upon returning to their home, Yohji had waited patiently for someone to say those two small, but rather important words and when they weren't forth coming, he decided that the stress of the night had caused everyone to forget the date. Besides, it was only two in the morning and none of them were truly thinking clearly. He'd wait until later and then the others would remember what today meant and insist that he sleep in and not take his turn in the shop.

Wishful thinking.

_**I got a wicked woman,  
Woman got a vicious tongue.  
Every night I come home a little drunk,**_

_**And we go one on one.**_

Yohji's day started off with a bang, or more precisely with Aya banging on his door. Slowly the thick waters of sleep parted and he swam into consciousness. He wrapped one of the many throws he had on the bed around his waist and stumbled to the rattling door. Bleary emerald eyes peered around the heavy oak and into cool, angry amethyst ones. The redhead didn't seem to be carrying any gifts or breakfast.

"Get up," Aya growled. "It's almost time to open the shop."

"But–"

"And before you ask, Omi's got cram school and Ken's out coaching his kids. So, don't bother asking either of them to switch with you." The surly redhead turned on his heels and stalked down the stairs. "I expect to see you on time for once, Kuduo."

"But…" he managed to gasp out before Aya disappeared into the lower part of the building. "Good morning to you too, asshole." He sighed and turned back to the crumpled mess that he had been sleeping in. The first week after a kill tended to be really rough on his bedding; he had a tendency to toss and turn and get caught up in nightmares. The mere thought of climbing back into the sweat soaked, wrinkled linens made him shudder with disgust and was enough to get him moving. He quickly stripped and remade the bed. He took his time picking out what to wear; looking his best always made his day a little brighter. And besides, he needed to look great to greet his fan club. After that task, he meandered into the bathroom and started the shower. Stepping into the steaming stream of water, he sighed his relief as his neck and back muscles started to relax.

His peaceful, easy feeling lasted as long as the hot water. Just as he started soaping up his body, the water ran icy. With a yelp he quickly rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and finished washing his long limbs, cursing Ken the entire time. The muscle-bound idiot always seemed to forget that there were three other people that needed to use the hot water in the Koneko. Granted that Ken's approach to life tended to be very physical and that led to a lot of sore muscles and strained joints, but he had to be a little more considerate of the others living in the household. Or at least, that's what Yohji thought.

He stepped out of the now freezing shower and quickly toweled himself off, hoping that the friction from rubbing his body would draw some heat back into his frozen limbs. With practiced ease, he massaged the water out of his golden locks, drew them back into a loose tail (leaving the front free so that he could flirt from under the wild tresses) and sauntered down the stairs with a cool demeanor that would aggravate the hell out of Aya and drive his fans crazy with want. Not that he would ever consider dating any of the fan girls that congregated around the shop, but he also wouldn't go through life with one hand tied behind his back either.

"Everyone cheer, Kuduo is here!" he announced, stepping through the door into the flower-laden warmth of the store. In his haste, he'd forgotten one small but ever so important detail…if Omi had cram school, so did most of the high school girls that fluttered about the flower shop like so many brightly colored butterflies. The only other people looking at flowers were a couple of middle-aged housefraus and an older man who looked like he had just spent the night on the sofa.

He smiled and focused on the few customers that straggled in over the course of the morning. As soon as Omi and Ken made their appearances and the two magic words weren't used, Yohji decided to go shopping. That would give his friends time to get things ready for his return.

Yohji was more than ready to leave the Koneko. Aya's brooding silence had all of his nerves on edge and as soon as Omi's bright face came into view the tall Eurasian bolted for the door.

"Yohji?" came the youngest member's voice.

"I'm going out for a while," he shouted back up the stairs that lead to the underground garage where Seven sat waiting for him. "I'll be back before you know it." Besides escaping the ominous silence, his absence would give the others time to prepare the surprise party he just knew that they had cooked up.

_**Sittin' in the kitchen, listenin' to you bitchin',**_

_**Every night of my life.  
You make this house a combat zone,**_

_**You cut me like a knife.**_

_**Woman you're tougher than leather,**_

_**You make it hard on me.**_

_**We've got problems baby that's okay,**_

'_**Cause I'm still lovin' you anyway.**_

_**If we put down our weapons for just one night,**_

_**Maybe we can make it right,**_

_**But we just fight about it. **_

Yohji entered the Koneko, tripping over his own feet in the darkness. A sly grin drifted lazily across his features at the thought of the surprise that he knew would be waiting. Upstairs in the living area of the building his three colleagues would be hiding in the dark, waiting for him to creep up the stairs and then they would give him the start of his life. He was too clever for that; he knew they were up there, lurking in the shadows with presents, cake and ice cream. Or at least that's what he hoped they were doing.

He listened, ears straining for the slightest hint of breathing, moving or life period. His assassin-trained senses didn't detect anything. Not the slightest bit of noise to indicate that his comrades and friends were lurking in the darkness of the shared common rooms. He flipped on the light and the only thing that met his ears or eyes was a simple piece of white paper, lying in contrast to the dark wood of the kitchen table.

Omi's neat handwriting graced the upper side of the note. _Yohji,_ it read, _Aya has gone to visit his sister. Ken's over at a friend's watching the World Cup of Soccer and I'm going laser bowling with some of my friends from school. We left you some take-out Chinese in the fridge and none of us should be too late. See ya soon, Omi._

Depression hit him like a two-ton anvil. The overpowering urge to fall to his knees and weep nearly forced him off his feet. He pulled himself up, crumpled the ever so politely worded note into a ball and pitched it into the nearest wastebasket. He stalked up the stairs, with every intention on sulking - until he remembered that there was no one to mope for. The rustle of his packages caught his attention and he smiled a smile that would have done a certain literary cat proud. Yohji Kuduo wouldn't be found pouting on his birthday. There was a whole town full of clubs to visit, beautiful women to charm and possibly bed and a whole bevy of charming, beddable young men to lounge at his feet. If his so-called friends wouldn't remember his one special day of the year, there would be a flock of admirers waiting for him.

He strode into his room, set his bags down and began to strip, flinging his clothes every which way in his haste. He needed a shower to start his power preparations then watch out Tokyo…Yotan was on the prowl.

_**Tell me I'm wastin' my money,**_

_**Tell me I'm wastin' my time,**_

_**Hangin' with trash, spendin' my cash,**_

_**On cheap talk, whiskey and wine.**_

_**You just ain't the same girl,**_

_**Same girl I used to know,**_

_**Love and hate seem to be our fate,**_

_**And it cuts me to the bone.**_

The stairs wouldn't hold still when he staggered home just before dawn. He held his hand out in front of his face, trying to bring the wildly weaving staircase in focus. It had been an outrageously wonderful night that ended in the best sex he'd had in years. Hopefully, his partner wouldn't let the others know about the two of them. A dim light shone down the steps, lighting his way. He reached the landing and tried to tiptoe past the opening that led to the shared rooms.

"Kuduo," Aya's voice grated against his eardrums. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Ayan," he slurred, "I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

"Get your scrawny ass in here," came the irritated command.

"Look," he snapped, sobering up a bit. "I'm in no mood to listen to you bitch right now. I've had a wonderful night, gotten the best piece of ass I've had in a long time and am totally smashed. I would like things to stay that way for a little longer." Aya's mouth opened to start voicing one of his endless orders or complaints. "Look Fujimiya, there's no mission, the shop's not open today because it's Sunday and I can do what I want with my own time."

"And what if there had been a mission?" Aya countered. "What if your negligence had put us in danger? It's about time that you started thinking of the group instead of just yourself. The rest of us are tired of cleaning up after you and we won't from now on."

The breathtaking afterglow from his night out vanished along with his drunkenness. Listening to the redhead's complaints was a slap in the face to him. Never once had he expected the others to clean up after him. And never had he ever forgotten one of their birthdays. Although there were times that Aya probably wanted him to, knowing Yohji's sense of humor.

"Think and do what you want, Aya," he snarled, turning on his heel and walking out of the room. "But before you judge me, take a look at the calendar and tell me if you've forgotten anything." With that he walked up the stairs to the sanctuary of his own room, slammed the door shut and locked it. And after considering it, he pulled a heavy, antique steamer trunk in front of the door to keep Omi and Ken out of his space. They all could pick the locks on the doors with disgusting ease.

He stripped off his clothes for the second time in less than twelve hours, smiled at the poignant memories the glittering garments brought to mind and began to jack off at the tidal wave of lust that washed over him . . . . . . . .

He had showered, using some specially scented bath products. The rich, musky fragrance produced an arousal in everyone that smelled it and he wasn't immune to the influences of it. After he finished his bath, he had dried his hair upside-down to give it body and bounce, and then streaked gold hair mascara through his tresses. The glitter caused his hair and skin to take on a more golden tone. He lined his eyes with a gold-dusted emerald color, making them even greener. A light coat of gold-sprinkled rose sharpened his cheekbones and a deeper pink glistened on his lips. He strode back to his room; wearing nothing but his birthday suit and shut the door.

He carefully smoothed on gold body-glitter lotion to polish his frame. Over that went the new, emerald green, silk g-string he had bought that afternoon and the metallic, low riding leather pants he had purchased to go with it. A bright green and gold fishnet crop top joined the ensemble and a gold and emerald, ankle-length, silk duster. He slipped on a pair of tan, ankle-high, cuffed leather boots. A gold hoop with a half-carat emerald drop in the center adorned his ear. And to finish the whole look, he put his green and gold sunglasses on and pushed them up on his head. He glowed from head to toe like some pagan god of lust.

After some serious deliberation, Yohji decided to leave Seven home. He didn't know what state he'd end up in and there was no way he would risk his or some poor innocent's life. Besides, Seven cost him a mint to buy and maintain and there was no way in hell he wanted to damage her. So, he called a cab. While waiting, he rejected the thought of leaving a note for the others. They didn't deserve any consideration from him. The gaping wound of their neglect threatened to darken what little joy he could find on this day and he squelched it brutally. There was no way he'd wreak a wonderful night with hurt feelings or bad karma. He stuffed another pack of cigarettes and his keys into the deep pockets of the duster and slid a good-sized wad of cash and his ID into the pockets of the skin-tight pants

When the cab arrived, he ghosted out of the shadows almost causing the driver to keel over from a heart attack. The trip went fast and they reached the club section of town in record time. The cabbie spent part of his trip drooling over his fare and the silent attention bolstered Yohji's flagging confidence. It amazed him how much his teammates' abandonment dragged on his soul and how a little interest strengthened it.

The low, pulsing beat of the music thrummed through the soles of his boots, straight up his legs and to his groin. Who was he kidding? Almost everything hit him below the belt. He paid the staring cabdriver and sauntered toward his favorite club, the Tropicana.

The line for the discotheque snaked around the block. Pretty girls and even prettier boys vied for the right to join the select few allowed into the rarefied air of the place. As he approached, one of the bouncers came back around the corner, zipping up his pants, with a very sweet-looking kid next to him. When the pair reached the red, velvet rope; the boy was passed through along with his friends.

"Still playing games I see, Joey," Yohji smirked.

"Kuduo," Joey said, giving him a big smile. "Long time no see, bro."

"Been kinda busy. So, what's it gonna cost to get me in?"

"Nothing, man. You know you've got a standing invitation."

"So, am I going to grow old waiting or are you going to let me in?"

Joey laughed and unhooked the rope, letting the gold and emerald man pass. "Have fun," he shouted at Yohji's back, "there's some exceptionally hot ones tonight!"

"I intend to," he shouted back as he vanished into the murky, smoke-filled depths of the club. Ahead of him writhing, nubile bodies gyrated to the pounding beat of the pseudo techno/metal music. The heavy bass settled into his blood, the beat of his heart kept tempo with the unrelenting rhythm.

He strode over to the bar and ordered a bottle of Jack Daniel's Black Label No. 7. The amber liquid glowed in the flashing, multi-colored lights from the dance floor. He could see couples dancing, their movements echoing a more primal activity. Depression landed on his shoulders with all four claws. Part of him still couldn't believe that the people he cared for the most forgot about his day.

With a heavy sigh he wolfed down half his bottle, the fire from the whiskey spread from his stomach into his extremities, leaving tingling warmth in their wake. The room spun with familiarity, the liquor doing its damage to his brain and inhibitions. After he found the bottom of his redeemer, his feet sought out the dance floor.

The dancing bodies were packed together so tightly that it was almost impossible to move about the lit, glass squares without bumping against another person. Yohji found himself dancing with a beautiful Asian boy, whose jaw-length hair had been dyed the most improbable color of plum. Hair aside, the bishounen wasn't hard on the senses with his high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes and lithe body. Their groins brushed together as they danced, arousing the taller man to a fever pitch. Someone pressed his hard member against Yohji's ass, the unyielding lump rubbing where the seam in his leather pants split his globes. A deep moan escaped the Eurasian's lips as a long fingered hand reached around him to cup his package

He could tell the man was a foreigner: his height made it obvious. Most of the writhing bodies on the dance floor only came up to his shoulder, all except the mysterious man rubbing his person against the tall assassin. Yohji leaned his head on the other man's shoulder and his lips were quickly devoured.

Silk over steel lips, flavored with the alcohol, overwhelmed his senses and flame-colored hair tickled his cheek. The fiery color was at the furthest end of the spectrum from Aya's cherry ice-pop locks. Maybe the broody redhead's hair matched his freezing personality. He ground against the steely rod of flesh pressing tightly along the seam of his leathers, moaning with every thrust of their bodies. The arousal grew larger with their grinding motion, threatening to split the other man's tight, body hugging jeans, the denim growing tighter with every movement.

The tall Eurasian found himself being dragged off the dance floor by one arm. Racing past the table where he left his duster, Yohji stopped long enough to grab the expensive coat and all its hidden treasures. The flame-tressed man, leading the way through the crowd, seemed vaguely familiar to the assassin, like he should know him.

Tight, black denim jeans followed the curves of a very well formed ass and a short, black toreador-style jacket hugged broad shoulders and accentuated the narrow waist. The abbreviated coat rode a tiny bit to show the nearly transparent, white silk shirt underneath. Flame-colored hair was held back from the man's face by a white bandana. The hair ornament gave the identity of his partner away.

"Schuldich," he murmured, knowing that the sadistic telepath from Schwarz would be able to hear any and all of his thoughts.

_: Very good, Katzen:_ the man's voice echoed in the vaults of his head. _: I didn't expect you to recognize me quite so quickly. I am impressed. You're not as dumb as we've been led to believe.:_

"What's the old saying? Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see?" Yohji said, not bothering to shout over the pulsing music.

_: Ah yes. Some American author said that, I believe.:_ The man looked at him with lust-filled eyes. _: Now, are we going to end this little party here and now? Or do we go find somewhere more private and start taking each other apart?:_

"Well, I don't know about you, but I am more than willing to call it a truce and then we can get back to more important things."

_: Such as?:_

"Finishing what you started on the dance floor." Yohji ground himself against the other man's leg, letting him revel in the reaction he had caused. "Right now the only thing I've got on my mind is a great lay. So, you interested?" He leaned into the wall, raised one long leg and wrapped it around the other man's waist; pulling him close enough that their groins rubbed together.

The redhead groaned and stroked his hand up and down the lean body cradling him. Quicker than a thought he snatched Yohji's wrist and dragged him from the building toward the convertible red sports car he owned. They paused, the taller man pinned the thin assassin against the cool metal of the vehicle and stripped his pants down. The golden leather peeled back, exposing molten gold skin and the emerald silk that protected his groin. With a wicked grin, Schuldich reached out and cupped the younger man's arousal through the fragile protection. The scent of patchouli, sandalwood and male musk perfumed the air.

"I can see that you're more than ready for me, Katzen," Schuldich smirked, continuing his demanding caress.

"Gods, Schu, please," he begged, grinding into the skilled touch. Precum darkened the front of his g-string and his legs threatened not to hold him. With supernatural speed and strength the Schwarz redhead picked him up and placed him on the hood of the car. The smooth, chilled paint cooled his overheated skin and played counterpoint to the searing, brutal fingers that split his ass. One long, dry finger forced its way inside his hidden pucker. The pain felt intense, but deep in his soul Yohji knew that this is the way he had always wanted his partners to be. Forceful, taking without asking and to hell with the pain and humiliation that he would feel. His hips bucked up to meet the thrusting intrusion. "Ah, yeah. Like that," he moaned.

"Like that do we, kitten?"

"Oh god! Yes. Please more," he groaned, relaxing against the probing digit.

"You're a slut, Kuduo," the German smirked. "A worthless little tramp, who'll do anything to get laid." The redhead shook his wild mane. "Whatever would your friends think if they knew about your tastes and desires?"

"The only one who'd care is Aya and he'd just glare at me and say, '_SHI NE_!' and come after me with that damned katana of his."

"Are you so sure about that?" Schuldich asked. "I mean, these are the men that forgot your birthday, how well do you really know them? They don't seem to care all that much about you. You who have never forgotten a birthday or an important date or occasion, but enough about them, lets get back to the main event." He introduced another dry finger into Yohji's slightly blood-slicked passage.

The golden-haired beauty threw back his head and cried out in pain. Waves of pain and pleasure mingled, blurring the line between the two. Pain became pleasure and the pleasure was so intense that it hurt, the perfect blending of agony and paradise. So extreme were the sensations that the young assassin nearly shot his load right there.

Schuldich gave him a sadistic smile, reefed his fingers out of Yohji's ass and pulled a thick rubber ring from one of the pockets of his jacket. The grin became bigger as he slipped the cockring around the base of Yohji's cock and pulled up his pants, being careful of his oversensitive organ. "Can't have you shooting off before it's time, now can we?"

"Bastard!"

"That could well be," the redhead sneered, "Now get in the car." He pushed the younger man toward the passenger's side of the sports car. Yohji climbed in and fastened the seatbelt around his slim waist. The vehicle listed to one side as the other man climbed in and settled himself against the white leather seat. With a turn of the key, the powerful engine rumbled to life and the tires squealed as they tore out of the parking lot, barely pausing long enough to see if the traffic would allow them to leave.

Instead of heading toward the tired, battered row of love motels that lined one of the streets near the clubs, the car headed into the downtown area and the high-priced hotels that stood proudly watching over the busiest part of the city. Yohji smiled at the unconscious fastidiousness of his partner. The choice of spots for their bedroom games said a lot about the man sitting silently beside him.

He reached over and cupped the steely rod tenting Schuldich's jeans. With experienced fingers, he carefully unzipped them and felt inside the denim. Just as he thought, the mouthy German was going commando tonight: no room in those pants for anything as mundane as underwear or even a g-string. Yohji carefully eased Schuldich's cock from its cloth shelter and began to stroke his hand over the ever-hardening length. Drops of pre-cum oozed out of the tip, making his self-appointed task just a little bit easier.

With a sly grin, he undid the restrictive belt, leaned over and began licking the tip of Schuldich's cock. The redhead inhaled sharply and the car swerved. The next swipe of his tongue was greeted with a low, guttural growl and fingers in his hair, holding his head in place. With that sign of approval, Yohji wrapped his mouth around the throbbing appendage and began sucking, taking it deeper and deeper until it slid down his throat. The salty/sweet flavor leaking out of the tip tasted like ambrosia and spurred him to greater heights of oral gratification.

"Gods, Kuduo! You keep this up and we won't make it to the hotel," Schuldich growled. "As a matter of fact if you don't stop now, we won't be getting anywhere in one piece." He pulled back on the golden brown locks in his hand. "Did you hear me? I said stop!"

Yohji pulled back, tucked the swollen cock back into its denim cradle and smiled up at the owner. "Paybacks are a bitch, aren't they?"

"Goddamn, Yohji! What the fuck are you trying to do? Get us killed?"

"I take it you liked it," he smirked. "Now we're even."

The flame-tressed man chuckled at his latest lover. "Remind me not to really piss you off," he commented, risking a quick glance into ancient emerald eyes. "You and I are more alike than I thought. Neither of us can stand to lose and we're not afraid to use sex as a weapon. I think I'm going to like being with you."

"Let's not start talking about the future," the younger man sadly said. "We're from two different worlds and it'll be hard to overcome that. So, let's just enjoy what we've got tonight and let tomorrow come in its own time. Now is the time for wild sex. Let's see if we can get kicked out of the fancy hotel room you're going to rent."

"Agreed. I don't think there's much we can do to get tossed out of the place I'm taking you," he leered. "They charge a mint, but don't care what you do as long as it doesn't spill into the hallway."

"Good, that'll give me something to strive for." Bright white teeth glinted in the passing gleam from the streetlights.

The car pulled up in front of the Tokyo Hilton and a red-coated valet stepped out and opened the door for Yohji to get out. He smiled in appreciation at the sight of the young assassin's rumpled clothing and smeared makeup. Yohji gave him a wicked half-grin while looking at him over the top of his sunglasses, smoky green eyes peering up through thick lashes.

"See something you like?" he asked the drooling employee.

"I … ah–"

"Katzen, cummin Sie heir," Schuldich's voice whipped out as he snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot on the pavement right next to him.

"Yes, sir," he answered, stepping over to the indicated spot. "What would my master like?"

"Behave Yohji and no more tormenting the staff, understood?"

"Of course, Master." He took one of the telepath's fingers and began to gently suck and nibble on it. "You're the boss."

The groaning redhead wrapped an arm around the slender waist of the man beside him and walked the two of them into the vaulted opulence of the hotel lobby. He fumbled with his back pocket, looking for the card key he had placed there before leaving for his night of hunting. Why the kitten had drawn him, he couldn't tell. Maybe it was the notion of danger either from Yohji himself or from the homicidal maniac who was considered the leader of Weiss. The mere thought of Aya Fujimiya raised gooseflesh on his back. Crawford, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy fantasizing about crushing the ice prince's cool façade under his feet and totally demoralizing the aloof man.

The pair reached the elevators and Schuldich slipped his room key into the slot in order to reach the top floors of the building. The mirrored doors slid quietly closed, leaving the two of them in their own world. Yohji gave the taller redhead a wicked smile and then began to lick and kiss his lips. The older man pulled the lithe figure against him and commenced to devour his sweet mouth. The smooth, upwards motion of the car went unnoticed by the pair, until the cabin came to a halt and an elderly man and his wife started to step through the open doors.

"Sorry, this car is full," Schuldich snapped at the amazed pair and none too gently pushed them out. The shocked looks on their wrinkled faces started Yohji giggling and the mere thought of their expressions if he and his partner had been more involved forced a true bout of laughter.

Schuldich cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

The laughing man tried to explain, but his mirth slurred his words so that they were totally unintelligible. His giggling came to an abrupt halt as the German reclaimed his mouth, the kisses becoming rougher and more demanding. Pale, long, strong fingers worked their way into the tight waistband of Yohji's pants, pinching and stroking the golden skin found there. The button of the white assassin's pants popped off with a resounding clank as it ricocheted off the walls of the elevator. The loud ding of the car reaching its destination broke the two lust-filled men apart. With minimal straightening of clothing they stepped from the cabin and into the penthouse hallway. Only two rooms occupied this floor, one was empty and the other the dark assassin had rented for his liaisons this night.

"Well, Katzen, are you brave enough to bell the dog in his own lair?" he asked the emerald and gold man standing beside him. Yohji answered with a deep, shameless kiss. "Very good. Now let's go in and make the best of the time we have, nein?" He claimed the beauty's lips and the two of them fell through the door that he opened.

The opulence of the room went unnoticed as the two partners struggled for dominance in the age-old dance of power. Tongues wrestled and swirled, fighting for control of the kisses. Their mouths broke apart long enough for constricting clothing to be removed and panting breaths to be taken. Soon, all restrictions were eliminated. Hands, tongues, lips and teeth slid over bare skin, tasting, nipping, licking and exploring.

Yohji found his legs against the barn-sized bed that took up most of the space in the bedroom. The generic hotel bedspread and snowy-white sheets had been pulled back and neatly folded at the foot of the bed and two pieces of 'designer' chocolate had been placed on each of the pillows. A complimentary bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice on one of the bedside tables with two crystal champagne flutes. The glasses caught the light and shone a prism on the wallpaper and the white of the sheets.

Schuldich pushed the younger man down on the bed, then stood there admiring his chosen fare for the night. The stark white of the sheets accented the leggy blonde's natural color, making him look like a statue of gold. His warmly colored hair spilled out behind him and the darker blonde of the curls surrounding his manhood worked to compliment the beauty of his body. Long, lean, lithely muscled legs seemed to stretch on forever and wide, mischievous, emerald, lust-filled eyes looked up at him, challenging him to do his worst.

Yohji placed his feet flat on the bed, spreading his legs so that the German could see all that he was getting. He drew his knees up toward his chest, exposing his hidden pucker. He could hear the low growl of passion from Schuldich and the sound rumbled down Yohji spine, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. He gently grasped his own turgid, blushing flesh, using the pre-cum to lubricate the motions of his hand as he stroked his fist up and down. His hand was brutally removed from where it pleasured him. A silk scarf tied the offending appendage to the bed frame. His other hand soon joined the first one, leaving him defenseless in the presence of his enemy. The only thing the flame-haired man didn't remove from his possession was his watch, the one containing his wire. Somehow it made him feel better to know that if worst came to worst, he would have some protection and an escape route from the binding scarves.

The German gave him an evil grin, reaching into one of the drawers in the bedside stand and removing something that the white assassin couldn't see. The low hum of a vibrator filled in the empty spaces between panted breaths. He carefully lubed up the toy and pressed it against the fragile skin between Yohji's balls and ass, hitting his sweet spot from the outside. The blonde's hips rocketed off the bed as the stimulation sent his sex drive into overdrive. Holding the toy in place, the devious redhead slipped one well-lubed finger into his hidden opening.

Yohji moaned, riding the intruding finger for all he was worth, pleading the whole time for more. A second finger joined the first and then a third. With each additional finger, the golden man's groans became louder and his hips worked harder, trying to draw the digits deeper into his body. A fourth finger joined its brothers in his body and he cried out in pain and pleasure. Then all of them were removed, leaving him feeling devoid and abandoned. And the external stimulation ended, just as he reached the pinnacle of completion. His body hummed with need, the gates of paradise were so close, and he could almost touch them. And the damned cockring still rested at the base of his organ.

"Not yet, Katzen," came the nasally, slightly accented voice. "You don't get to go all the way until I do." The German positioned himself between Yohji's golden thighs and thrust his cock in all the way to the hilt. The Eurasian's hips moved to accommodate the latest intrusion. Then his legs crept up his body and wrapped loosely around the German's neck, allowing him greater access to the beautiful form beneath him.

Yohji could feel every breath expelled from Schuldich's mouth as it caressed his weeping cock. The cool air stimulated his overly sensitive organ to the point of pain and he shuddered in reaction.

_Gods,_ Yohji screamed in his head. _This is beyond orgasmic._ A low chuckle rumbled through the older man, vibrating both conjoined bodies. Yohji looked up at him and gave him a wicked, ravenous grin showing Schuldich his freed hands; the scarves were nothing to a man of his talents.

Slowly he pulled his body off the bed, just using the muscles in his belly and chest. When he reached the pinnacle of his arc, he threw his arms around the flame-tressed man and took control of their mating. With the darkened room and his eyes being partially closed, he could almost pretend that Aya held him.

_Where the hell did that one come from?_ he wondered, his wits more than a little shaken at that random thought.

_: No imaginary lovers allowed here, Katzen.:_ Schuldich's voice slapped him back to reality. _: Fujimiya's not here. And I highly doubt that he would be truly able to enjoy your glorious body. Now get ready for the grand finale…:_

Yohji quivered with emotion as he felt Schuldich's climax starting to roar through the telepath's mind. The tsunami of feelings swept over him and pulled him into the bright sea of completion. The world went blank, turning into a glorious, empty, white sphere of nothingness. There were no assassins, no Weiss, no Schwarz, nothing: just the feelings of connected bodies, synchronized breaths and the scent of sex. Then, his body realized that it still hadn't been allowed to reach its own release.

"Gods, Schu!" he groaned, bringing his hands around to free his swollen member. They were grabbed before they could finish their work.

"Uh ah, Katzen. We're not finished with you yet." Schuldich said, his voice slightly breathy but recovering. "Let's see how we can torture the poor kitten more, eh?"

"Don't be a bastard, Schu!" he pleaded. "Please just let me finish. If you don't, it's going to explode and then I won't be any good to the team."

"That might not be such a bad idea, Kuduo. You know that your little trick really put Crawford's nose out of joint. Although, it's probably a good thing to keep the damned American on his toes, either that or he becomes an unbearably smug prick." He grinned down at his captive audience. "I love it when Fujimiya gets the better of him, it's just lovely to see him trying to decide if he's going to be pissed or pounce on the object of his desire."

"Schuldich, PLEASE!" he cried, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. "Gods it hurts!"

"Are we feeling a little pain, Katzen?"

"Bastard! You know I am! PLEASE let me CUM!" he begged.

"Well, since you remembered to use the magic word," the flame-tressed torturer said, removing the ring and devouring Yohji's cock. The Eurasian thrust a couple of times and then came with a window-rattling scream. When he regained consciousness he sat up and gently kissed his partner.

"The sun's coming up," Yohji said, looking out at the soft light of the false dawn. "I'd better go before Aya has a shitfit or Omi begins to worry."

"And I need to get some sleep before it's time to check out." Schuldich gave him a secret grin. "We'll have to do this again, eh Katzen?"

"Definitely," he murmured, returning the grin. "Maybe next time we can do it at my place." Yohji's eyes glimmered with mischief. "Of course, in order to do that you'd have to have a death wish. For some reason, Aya just wouldn't appreciate your more esoteric talents and might react in a generally inappropriate manner. I can just see it now, you and I in the most compromising of positions and him racing into my room, katana drawn, screaming Shi Ne at the top of his lungs. Wouldn't that be just a sight?"

Schuldich chuckled at the image Yohji drew for him. For some reason, being with the golden man felt, if not right, then like something he could very easily get used to. Under that intense, White Knight attitude, a real person resided. A real, charming, sexual person who felt just as lonely in his little group as the telepath felt in his. Watching Yohji dress, Schuldich couldn't help but hope. Maybe the time would come when the two groups were no longer at odds and then that would be the time for them. _Yeah, and one day pigs will fly without airplanes,_ he thought, cynically.

"Katzen, here," he said, holding out a wad of bills. "This should pay your cab fare back to where you and the other kittens are hiding." He drew the golden man down for a passionate kiss. "I'll see you when I see you, Kuduo. Be good and I hope that I helped to brighten your birthday." He got up off the bed and walked the other man to the door of the room, arm wrapped loosely around his narrow waist. At the entryway, they shared their final kiss for the night . . . . . . .

Yohji came, hot semen spattering over his hand and belly. He relaxed into the softness of his mattress, knowing that he would regret the excesses of tonight but reveling in them for the time being.

He had had the cabbie stop at a liquor store near the hotel; he bought another fifth of Jack and guzzled it down on his way back to the Koneko. Somehow he knew that he'd need the alcoholic buffer in order to deal with whoever might be awake when he returned. He had really hoped that it would be Omi waiting in the early morning darkness for him, but somehow he knew that Aya would be the one waiting up. The man just couldn't wait to ream Yohji a new one. As a matter of fact, he seemed to spend a lot of time watching what he did and where he went. That could make getting together with Schuldich a major pain in the ass. _Well, cross that one when it comes up, he thought, drifting off to sleep._

_**Woman you're tougher than leather,**_

_**You make it hard on me.**_

_**We got problems, baby that's okay,**_

'_**Cause I'm still lovin' you anyway.**_

_**If we put down our weapons for just one night,**_

_**Maybe we can make it right,**_

_**But we just fight.**_

_**I've tried to hold steady,  
Tried to give it one more chance,  
It's the same old song playing on and on,  
And I don't wanna dance!**_

Omi came downstairs to find Aya staring intently at the calendar that usually hung near the phone in the living area. The man's serious expression and wrinkled brow were almost funny in their intensity.

"Aya?" he chirped, coming over to where the red-haired man sat. "What's bothering you?"

"Omi," he said, quietly. "Do you know why yesterday's date is circled in green ink? Is this something that Yohji did or did you do it?"

The youngest member of Weiss grabbed the chart from him. "Oh shit!" he cursed. "Please tell me that we didn't!" He gave Aya a very severe look. "How did Yohji seem when he got home this morning?"

"Drunk, but what's new about that?"

"Did he seem depressed or down?"

"Not that I could see." He glared at the younger man. "Would you be so kind as to tell me why the hell you're getting so bent about a date?"

"Aya, you're so dense," Omi sighed. "Yesterday was Yohji's birthday and we all forgot it. No wonder he seemed so out of it when I got back from school. Looks like we're going to have to find a way to make it up to him, eh?"

"He seemed just fine. Came in smelling like booze and sex," he scoffed. "Don't see that our missing his birthday did him any harm. Just gave him another excuse to go out and party. Besides, he didn't mention it to anyone. I bet he just wanted a reason to go out drinking and carousing." The jealousy in Aya's voice nearly made Omi giggle. For someone so intent on his own undertaking, he appeared to be giving a lot of attention to Yohji. There might be hope for the cold redhead after all.

"You could be right, Aya, but I have no intention of allowing a rift to form in this group over something like a missed birthday. Besides, he never misses our birthdays. Why just last year he hired a prostitute for yours, remember?"

Aya blushed. "How could I forget?" he grumbled. "I don't see why he felt like he needed to embarrass me like that. It's not like I have time to carry on like he does." He caught Omi's skeptical look. "What? It's not like I'm jealous of him or anything. He needs to learn to be more responsible to the group and not spend nights carousing and carrying on!"

_Not jealous?_ Omi thought. _Yeah right and I'm the pope. If you get any more envious of our Yohji you'll start looking like a leprechaun._ "Whatever Aya. Now go wake Ken-ken and we'll start planning Yotan's belated birthday."

Nature screaming in his ear woke Yohji. He stumbled to the bathroom and took care of the urgent need and then just sat on the toilet. The room spun and his stomach started to do gymnastics and threatened to jump out of his throat. He pressed his face against the cool tile that coated the wall, the chilled ceramic soothing his pounding head. He started to doze off as the pain receded and caught himself just as he started sliding off the porcelain throne. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he staggered to the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go.

_I'll probably run out of hot before too long,_ he grumbled to himself. _But it'll feel good for as long as it lasts. Ken no doubtedly used ever bit of hot water that we have. Him and his four showers a day._

When the water stayed at the proper temperature he sighed with gratitude and wonder. He wrapped a towel around his narrow hips and wandered from the bathroom into the cool, dark cavern that he called a bedroom and began to carefully dress. Properly dressed and feeling brave enough to possibly face food, he meandered down the stairs to the shared rooms, making sure his sunglasses were well placed on his face. The scent of cinnamon drifted up and tickled his nose. His stomach growled in response to the wonderful aromas permeating the air.

"Good afternoon, Yohji," Omi said, looking up from one of his ever-present schoolbooks.

"Hey, Chibi! How's tricks?" He smiled at youngest member of the team. _Afternoon? What they let me oversleep for a change? _

"Things are going really good." Omi looked at him very seriously. "Yohji, I'm sorry that we forgot your birthday. Why didn't you say anything? You didn't even try to remind us." The little blonde stuck his bottom lip out at the taller man. "And then you disappeared for an entire night. I mean, you've gone out clubbing before, but never until dawn and definitely not without one of us knowing where you were." His pout transformed into a glare. "Now, I'm going to sound a bit like Aya, but next time please leave us a note. We don't want anything to happen to you. You're an important part of this team and we couldn't do what we needed to if you weren't here. There, now I'm done with the lecture and we can get on to bigger and better things."

Yohji threw his head back and laughed. The boy's chirping cheerful reprimand nudged his conscience. What he did in a moment of pique could have put them all in a lot of danger and his bed partner would in all probability betray him and use the information that he managed to steal from the Eurasian's mind against the rest of the team. "I promise I won't do it again, Omittchi. Thanks for not being Aya."

"It's all good, Yotan. Now why don't you come over here and eat some of the food that we all chipped in for? We got all your favorites and managed to talk Ken-ken out of cooking. Aya and I decided that you really wouldn't appreciate being woken up by the fire department . . . . . again."

"Thanks Chibi." He drifted over to the food. Octopus sushi rested on ice, keeping it fresh. Coffee cake steamed, the pastry redolent with the odor of cinnamon, nutmeg and mace; its crumb topping begged to be tasted. A pot of his much loved Italian blend coffee called his name from the maker and a healthy helping of stir-fry released its ginger and lemon perfume into the air. His stomach growled, loudly, eliciting a giggle from the boy. "Looks like you guys really did go overboard here. I hope that this stuff hasn't been sitting here all day."

"Nope, the sushi and stir-fry were in the fridge, the coffee I had ready to brew and the coffee cake went into the oven when I heard you moving around upstairs. There are a few uses for thin walls and floors. Aya and Ken should be back in a few. They've already eaten, so dig in. The party will begin as soon as all of Weiss are together."

Without a second thought, Yohji attacked the food. For some reason, his hangover wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe the fact that he had been able to sleep the effects of the alcohol off had something to do with it. Or just the knowledge that his family had gone out of their way to make up for the fact that they forgot his birthday helped with the illness. Or it could be a night of sexual promiscuity could cure a hangover. He didn't have too much time to ruminate on the reasons for his lack of headache and other symptoms - Ken and Aya strode into the room; their arms filled with wrapped packages.

"Happy belated birthday, Yohji," Ken sang, dropping his load into the surprised man's lap. "Hope there are many more!"

"Happy birthday," Aya growled at him. "Next time just tell us what's eating you. Unlike Mastermind, none of us has telepathy."

The tall man jerked at the mention of Schwarz's sexpot, hoping that the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks would be put down as embarrassment for the gifts and not guilt. "Thanks, guys," he said, setting his chopsticks down and starting in on the gifts.

_**The sound you hear is the knife cut,**_

_**Switchblade serenade.**_

_**The sound you hear is the knife cut,**_

_**Switchblade serenade.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Interlude I**

Aya wandered the stalls of the flower market. Usually Omi did this chore, but the blonde needed a little extra time to prepare for exams and their workload had interfered with his studying. The redhead didn't mind this particular part of their job, as a matter of fact strolling the various stalls had a calming effect on his nerves. He had already chosen several different colors of roses, cattelya orchids, freesia and some gentian. Somehow, their personal flowers always played a large part in the numerous arrangements that they did. He neared a shadowed part of the building; most of it still in the shade. The sun had just crept over the horizon. This was Aya's favorite part of the day; the city's noise level stayed at a low hum and could be easily ignored and the heady scent of the myriad of flowers hung heavily in the air. Hands reached out of the gloom, covered his mouth and pulled him into the fragile privacy.

_: Good morning, Katzen,:_ a nasally voice said into his head. _: How goes it?:_

"Mastermind," he hissed, struggling to get away from the insane flame-tressed assassin.

_: Calm down, Katzen. I just have a question for you.:_

"And that would be?"

"How's Balinese?" Schuldich whispered into his ear. His tongue snaked out and traced the delicate shell-shaped orifice. He pulled the resisting form tight against his groin and moaned at the delicious contact.

"And how would you know Yohji?"

"You really need to take some fashion advice from him, Abyssinian," the taller man stated, clucking his tongue in distaste. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that someone with your hair color really shouldn't wear that shade of orange? You look like you're color blind. Or at least that you've got very poor taste."

"Again, how do you know Yohji?" he growled, becoming still in the other man's arms.

"Let's see, an emerald and gold god wandered into a discothèque, joined up with a flame-haired sinner and they spent a night of redemption at a local hotel." He grinned down at the motionless, taciturn man in his arms. "Got the point."

"His birthday!" Aya snarled. "His fucking birthday! The night that I waited all night for him to come home and he was screwing around with you?"

"Ja. But don't feel too bad," Schuldich murmured into his ear. "He was pining after someone else the whole time. But don't you worry; I'll make sure that he doesn't think about that certain somebody special too often." The man let Aya go, causing him to stagger into the dimly lit pathway. All that could be seen of his attacker was the white of his pants and the shimmer of the bandana that kept his hair off his face. "Oh by the way, Ran, your sweet, luscious Yohji has a thing for redheads. Maybe you should talk to him." He blew a kiss at the silently fuming man. "Ta-ta for now, beautiful."

Pain in Aya's hands caused him to look down; the thorns from some of the roses had bit into his palm, causing it to bleed. He scowled at the blood, turned on his heel, paid for his purchases and left. When he got home, a certain Eurasian would bleed out his last on the end of a katana.


	3. Chapter 3

TEARS OF FIRE pt 1

_**Wounded angel came to me,  
Broken heart in agony.  
Seeking answers, he cried to me in shame,  
Hopelessness filled my eyes with pain.**_

The mission was fucked. Aya limped from the soon-to-be demolished building, slightly ahead of the others and cursing under his breath. Just behind him, Ken supported an injured Omi. And Yohji ghosted from shadow to shadow; the only thing separating him from the murky gloom of the night was the white crosses on his sleeves. The tall, slender Eurasian hobbled behind the younger members of the team, keeping an eye on them and occasionally glancing in Aya's direction.

The operation had gone off without a hitch…until it was time for the team to make their escape. The target had died and the explosives were set. That's where their luck ran out. All the information Kritiker had gathered and their own careful surveillance failed to find a second, voice-activated security system. As the Yakuza lord they were sent to eradicate gasped out his final breath he uttered a single, devastating, unusual word, "Cockerel." As the last syllable passed through blood-flecked lips all hell broke loose.

Steel security gates came crashing down with the final sound of metal hitting cement. All access that Omi had gotten at the beginning of the job ceased to exist and a burst of energy lambasted his laptop, totally frying the circuits. A hidden armada of men erupted from their hiding places throughout the complex. And a simple hit-and-run attack ended up being an unmitigated mess. Somehow, they had managed to escape from the roiling pool of humanity with only minor injuries.

Aya threw a glare over his shoulder. Ken and Omi were taking too long to cross the expanse of parking lot between the building and the area where they had hidden their vehicle. And Yohji had fallen behind, his sensitive ears picking up some sound or another. Aya glowered in the blonde's direction, still not having the comprehension to understand why the golden man felt the need to sleep with the sadistic telepath from Schwarz. Not that he wanted anything to do with either man; sex was a distraction that he could ill afford. He had decided over the last two years that he was totally and completely asexual. Granted that he did masturbate, but other than that, he lacked the powerful drive that seemed to dictate the other men's actions.

A flash of light, the ear-piercing squeal of tires and the acrid smell of burning rubber broke into Aya's musing. He could see Yohji standing in the middle of the lot and the bright car lights had him pinned to the spot, like a rabbit on the highway. Everything slowed, every movement becoming clear, articulated, and time moved on snail's legs. The awful happenings of two years ago flashed through his mind, but instead of Aya-chan, the body that flew through the air had sweat-soaked golden hair and a pair of sunglasses.

"Yohji!" he screamed, reaching an impotent hand back toward the taller assassin. Omi and Ken echoed his cry. The former athlete scooped up the teenager and raced back to their fallen comrade's side. Omi already had his cell phone out and had contacted Manx (the kid must have her number on speed dial) and was receiving his instructions from the woman. Aya stood where he had been when the accident happened, his mind frozen in shock and busy replaying the events of the last few seconds.

The sin-black sports car flew past him, but the sound of Omi's crossbow firing barely registered with the shocked man. The bolt hit the speeding vehicle with a resounding thwack and a fountain of gas came spewing out of the hole. Ken bent over the fallen Yohji and dug frantically through the pockets of his trench coat until he located the items that he needed. Standing up, he drew a cigarette from the slightly crumpled pack, turned it around and lit the filter end. The cotton flared to life and he dropped it into the quickly spreading line of gasoline. The flammable fluid caught fire and the flames chased after the rapidly disappearing car. Twelve seconds after the vehicle vanished from sight, an explosion ignited the darkness into near daylight for half a minute then the flames died to dull glow.

Aya stood frozen, unable to force his stiff limbs to cover the short distance between him and the rest of the team. His body shook so hard in shock that his katana rattled in its sheath.

"Aya, get your shit together and get over here," Omi barked, trying to awaken their stunned leader. "Yohji needs us now; you can have your breakdown after we get him to safety. Move it Fujimiya!"

"Come on, Aya," Ken coaxed. "We can't get him to the van without your help. Come on, just a few more steps." Aya stumbled toward the calm, reasonable voice. "That's it, Aya. Just a little more. Good, now take Omi, put him in the van, and then bring back one of the boards that we've used for deliveries. You know the ones I'm talking about, right?"

Aya nodded his understanding and picked up the smallest member of the group. Omi's negligible weight barely slowed the swordsman down. The keys slipped from his pocket into the small blonde's hands and with the push of a button, the vehicle's locks were sprung and the doors open. He deposited Omi in the driver's seat - his left leg being the one injured - leaving his right one free for driving the van over to the accident site. The redhead opened the back door, pulled out a reinforced piece of plywood, and dragged it back over to the fallen figure. The rough wood bit into his fingers and the tarry scent of pine filled his nostrils. Somehow, the whole catastrophe seemed like a dream. Nothing appeared real, the entire thing felt like a bad joke or a nightmare created by Mastermind.

A slight figure with braids superimposed itself over the tall, lanky figure sprawled on the unforgiving pavement. The events of his sister's accident replayed in Aya's mind along with the dull thump of Yohji's body hitting the front grill of the car. This couldn't really be happening. He wasn't going to be forced to relive another crash. He had killed Takatori, had joined the Weiss in order to gain retribution for the man's callous attack on his sweet baby sister. He had become a murderer in order to seal the man's fate. Now the corrupt politician rested in hell, paying the devil for every cold, unfeeling act he ever committed. The men that struck Yohji had joined him and their boss in the cold, darkness of hell. But the team was still left a member short and there would be no guarantee that the slender blonde would ever rejoin them.

"Aya!" Ken shouted. "Get your head out of your ass and help me!"

"Huh? What?" Aya shook his head like a dog to clear his thoughts. "Sorry," he muttered while helping Ken load the injured Yohji onto the board. They rolled him like a log, keeping his neck perfectly lined up with his spine. Hopefully, that would be enough to avoid any spinal cord injuries and leave the blonde ready and able to work.

"Hurry!" Omi called back to his teammates, his attention focused on the police band radio they had in the van. "The fire department is only about three blocks away and there's a patrol car closer than that. We need to get out of here before we're seen."

"Right," Ken shot back. "Omittchi, can you reach the bungee cords in the console?"

"Got 'em, Ken." The little blonde threw the cords to his teammate and slowly moved into the passenger's seat, leaving the driver's side open for Ken. At this point in the game, neither he nor Ken really trusted Aya with something like driving - the redhead's focus appeared too shattered by the accident.

Ken, with Aya's help, quickly secured Yohji to the makeshift backboard and they loaded him into the back of the van. Aya sat on the floor next to him and stroked the long, blonde tresses away from the man's face. Only then did he notice that some of the golden strands were coated in blood; the viscous fluid caused clumps of his hair to cling together and trap Aya's fingers. Ken slipped behind the wheel of the vehicle and began to maneuver his way out of the area; lights off and moving wraithlike from shadow to shadow. As soon as they were out of the immediate vicinity, he flipped on the lights and headed for Magicbus hospital. Manx would meet them there and someone would tend to their various wounds, bruises and abrasions.


	4. Chapter 4

**TEARS OF FIRE pt 2**

The trip to the hospital was something out of a nightmare. About halfway to safety, Yohji began seizing; his eyes fluttered open then rolled up into his head and his body began to flail around, snapping off several of the elastic cords holding him down. Aya threw himself over the wildly thrashing form, trying to keep their oldest team member from injuring himself worse. Their movements mimicked an older, more primal dance, not that Aya was in any position to notice. When they reached the security of the hospital, each of them were whisked away to separate examining rooms and treated for their various injuries.

After Aya received care for a severely sprained ankle, four knife cuts that required stitches and assorted other minor cuts, bruises and abrasions, he went looking for Ken and Omi. He found the former soccer player standing against the wall in the hallway, his arms folded across his chest and a serious expression on his normally cheerful face.

"Ken," Aya said, limping up to him while carrying his crutches. "Any word?"

"They're stitching Omi up right night," the athlete said, giving his leader a strange look. "You know that those things work better if they're under your arms, right?"

Aya gave the man one of his patented death-glares and went back to watching the activity around them. "Any word on Yohji," he finally forced the question out from around the lump in his throat.

"They rushed him to the MRI about fifteen minutes ago. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine."

"And?" he asked, nearly choking on the smell of the hospital. For some reason, every hospital building carried the same odor — a vile mixture of disinfectant, urine, feces and rotting flesh. No matter where Aya went or what floor of the structure he was on, the stench remained the same. A wave of nausea nearly swept him off his feet and he leaned against the cool, eggshell-colored, cinderblock wall. He looked down the hallway, taking in the bland, neutral color scheme of the place.

The building had been built after then discovery of the importance of Feng Shui and the layout had been designed to stimulate the body's natural healing abilities. Or at least that had been the intent. But overcrowding and a need for more room had chopped up the well-meant plans and the resulting space could, and probably did, trap any evil humors in the rooms.

The squeak of gurney wheels coming down the corridor caught their attention. The figure on the bed filled it to the maximum, height-wise that was, and blood soaked golden hair hung over the edge of the creaking cot. Without thinking, Aya began to walk alongside the gurney and he took one limp, lifeless, ice-cold hand into one of his hands. The orderlies slipped the cot and its precious cargo into one of the stall-like emergency rooms. One of them picked up the manila envelope containing the test results, bowed slightly to Aya and stepped from the room. Ken and Omi soon joined him and they began their vigil.

Ghosts from the past began to chase through Aya's mind. This wasn't the first time that he had been on this type of a sentry duty. And the eerie similarities weren't lost on him. Hopefully Yohji's prognosis would be different from Aya-chan's. But he didn't have too much faith left in hope. The need to yell, scream, swear and chop things up with his katana simmered deep within him. Soon, he'd need to leave and do something physical. Either that or he'd go absolutely insane. Although, insanity did have its good points, he could go out, find that bastard of a German, and run him through. Or better yet, torture him slowly; let his external pain mirror the slowly dying soul deep in Aya's chest. Unknown to him, icy tears burned their way down his cheeks.

_**Tears of fire;  
From a heart so cold.  
Tears of fire;  
Feel my flesh explode.  
Tears of fire;  
Burn into my soul.  
I could never let you go.**_

Yohji still hadn't regained consciousness when they transferred him to a private room on one of the more elite wings of the hospital. Omi and Ken headed back to the Koneko to rest and recuperate from the various cuts scrapes and bruises that decorated their bodies. Kritiker sent over a few special guards and they sealed the floor up tighter than an eel's ass. Nothing would get by these silent shadows or at least that was the plan.

Aya helped to move the injured Balinese from the extremely uncomfortable emergency room gurney to the somewhat torturous excuse for a bed. It never ceased to amaze the redhead that a community so committed to the wellbeing of patients could create something as unpleasant as the six-inch thick, Gore-tex covered excuse for a mattress that most healthcare facilities insisted on using. One of the orderlies brought him a chair, one that must have been left over from the Second World War. Its straight back and sagging caning looked about as welcoming as the bed. But since it was the only thing in the room to rest his weary body on, he dropped into it with a drained sigh.

He stroked a hand through the Eurasian's matted hair - as soon as he got his breath back, he'd try to wash the clotted blood out of it. His sprained ankle throbbed with the steady beat of his heart, causing nausea with every strong pulse. The light in the room hovered between dim and murky and the steady, soft beeping of the telemetry unit soon lolled the redhead into a light, restless doze. In his dreams he relived the events of the night a thousand times, never once being able to change the outcome. A dry, rasping voice woke him from his terror-stricken sleep.

"Aya," Yohji moaned. "Aya … sorry …didn't mean … oh GOD!"

"Yohji!" Aya said, shaking the tall man by the shoulders. "It's all right! Calm down, everything's all right."

"Didn't mean … Aya … so lonely." Yohji drifted back off into his land of dreams. The blonde's words left Aya feeling lost. Emotions weren't his strong point and he had tried his damnedest to disconnect his after he lost everything that truly mattered to him. He didn't deserve to live and be happy when his parents were dead and Aya-chan slept the sleep of the terminally ill.

Sometimes he wondered if he wasn't bad luck. Everyone that he had ever cared about had left him and the last two in situations that he should have been able to prevent. If he had gotten out of the house faster, he wouldn't have been trapped under the rubble his family home and would have been able to pull his little sister out of the path of the speeding car. And Yohji, if that fool of a telepath from Schwarz hadn't interfered in their lives, Aya wouldn't have been pissed at the lanky blonde and they would have been side-by-side as they exited the chaos of the mission site. Of course, his tired brain gave him false information and he didn't remember that this could have happened whether or not his anger was directed at the man in the bed or not.

He sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, trying to stave off the impending headache. When he called the Koneko later in the day, he'd have to remember to have Omi bring up some aspirin or something else for his aching head and throbbing ankle. The emergency room physician had given him a prescription for something stronger, but he hated being muzzy headed, so the analgesic that they had at the Koneko would work just fine. He took Yohji's hand, held it loosely and closed his eyes against the dim light. That was the last thing he remembered before sleep swooped in and took him prisoner.

* * * * * *

Strong, masculine fingers ran through his hair, brushing it away from his sweaty face. The room around them smelled of sex, sweat and something with deep, woody overtones to it; in other words, it smelled just like Yohji. But over his more male scent the light fragrance of rose lingered too. His aroma mingled perfectly with the tall blonde's; just like he always knew it would.

_"Aya," _Yohji said, smiling up at him with a sated, content look on his face.

_"Hm?"_

"Aya," Yohji's voice drew him from the comforting depths of sleep.

"Yohji?" he asked, coming partially awake.

"Yeah, it's me. Where the hell are we and why the hell are all the lights out?"

Aya looked around the swiftly brightening room. The early morning light filtered in through the open drapes. It was bright enough in the room that Aya sneezed as his eyes tried to adjust to the brightness.

"What the hell are you talking about, Yohji?" he rasped, his voice still raw from the night. "It's a perfectly sunny morning."

"Aya," Yohji said, panic rising in his voice. "Quit joking around and turn on the fucking lights!"

The tall blonde's alarm cut through the morning fog in Aya's brain. He quickly chose to lie to his teammate. "Looks like we might be under a blackout, Yohji," he quietly said, breaking his own rule of very few words.


	5. Chapter 5

**TEARS OF FIRE pt 3**

_**I couldn't help myself,  
Forgive me if you can.  
It really wasn't me,  
I hope you understand.  
Too many memories to throw it all away,  
I'd never leave you anyway.**_

Aya sighed with frustration at the sight of the full tray sitting in front of Yohji's apartment door. No one had seen the Eurasian leave the relative safety of his room since departing the hospital almost two weeks ago. Sometimes the trays that Omi left by the door were eaten and other times they sat there collecting flies until one of the others took it away. The last time Aya had checked in on the team sexpot he had been sitting in the middle of his unmade bed, still wearing the clothes that he had worn home from the hospital.

The doctor told them that Yohji's loss of eyesight was (for the most part) psychosomatic and would only disappear with the proper treatment. The first psychologist that tried entering the room ended up with a three-foot length of the tall blonde's wire wrapped around his neck. Of course, they didn't find out until later that the man had tried to take advantage of Yohji. Aya had to use all of his self-control not to chase the man down and carve a few pounds of muscle out of the man's body with his katana.

In fact, all three of them treated their fallen comrade with kid gloves, not wanting to do anything that might upset him. Yohji's mental state was on the precarious side and it wouldn't take much to drive him over the edge. Aya sighed again, rested his body against the cool wall and closed his eyes.

The last few weeks had been trying on the redhead. He and the other two were working harder to make up for the missing piece of their puzzle. That meant long days in the flower shop and even longer nights when they had missions. It still felt strange not to have Yohji covering his back. The hardest part of the whole thing was that the oldest member of their team could make himself well, if he would only try. Aya glared at the closed door and then made up his mind. With a hard look on his face he walked to the offending door, pushed it open hard enough to mar the wall behind it and stood in the doorway glaring at the untidy figure huddled on the bed.

"Yohji," he growled, "get up."

"Aya?"

"Get up."

"Why the fuck should I?"

"You're going to get a shower, some clean clothes and eat something."

"Go away," Yohji mumbled, pulling the covers over his head.

That one act of childish rebellion broke through the dam of Aya's emotions. Here Yohji was, still able to carry on if he wanted to (unlike Aya's sister) and he was throwing his chance away in a bout of infantile pique. Aya stormed into the room, snatched the offending blankets away and grabbed the tall blonde by his greasy ponytail.

"Get up," he snarled. "And get your scrawny ass into the bathroom. Don't make me give you a bath … you won't enjoy the experience."

"Ow! Aya!" Yohji yelped. "Let go of the hair!"

"Are you going to stop with the pity party?"

"You don't know what it's like," came the sullen answer.

"That's true. But we all can imagine. Remember, Yohji, we're a team and what one member goes through, the others suffer also."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure that you three are going through the exact same thing I am."

"Shut up, Kuduo and move."

Aya led his captive to the bathroom, never letting go of the stringy, blonde hair. He shoved the taller man down on a stool in the shower and began to roughly undress him. The stale clothing had begun rotting on the slender body, the skin under the disintegrating material was raw, and small blisters were forming. Aya grunted at the sight of the inflamed flesh, wincing internally at the thought of how painful the sores must be.

He turned the water on, being careful of the temperature, not wanting to scald the irritated wounds. When the water reached the right temperature he moved the stool under the fine spray then stripped and stepped behind the lanky figure; soft, soap-covered washcloth in hand. He traced the cloth over Yohji's shoulders, neck and then down his back. The delicate touch caused the tall Eurasian to shiver in response. He could feel Yohji's muscles relaxing into his ministrations and the wire-tight tension leaving his shoulders. Just as Aya began relaxing with him, his body resonating with his teammate's, Yohji burst out and began swinging at him. A few of the blows hit in very sensitive areas, making the redhead see crimson.

"Go away!" Yohji cried. "Leave me the hell alone!"

Aya didn't have time to think about his reaction. One minute he was responding to the soft, pliancy of Yohji's body language and the next second, the leggy blonde was attacking him. One of Yohji's flailing hands made contact with his partially hard cock, causing a surge of pain to shudder through his body. That sensation, along with the shrieking voice drove the swordsman over the edge of sanity. He grabbed Yohji's hair and smashed his face against the smooth tile of the shower stall, grunting with satisfaction at the sound of flesh striking ceramic.

Yohji swung out, his bony fist making contact with Aya's hipbone, causing the redhead to double over with pain. While the blonde's punch wasn't as hard as it had been before the accident, the pain drove Aya from extremely pissed straight into totally insane. He doubled up his fist and slammed it into Yohji's jaw. The Eurasian flew off the stool, landing on the cool, slick tile of the shower on his knees and elbows.

Aya pounced. The prostrate figure called to him and he forced the golden head down. He repeatedly rained blows and kicks down on the defenseless figure kneeling in front of him. With one swift move, he shoved one finger deep into the small, brown pucker presented to him. The quickly moving water acted as a lubricant; a poor one, but it was better than nothing. He groaned at the sensation. The slick muscle alternately gripped then fought to expel the foreign object. Every time he felt the pressure trying to force him out, Aya became increasingly angry.

"What's the matter, Whore?" he growled, two years of frustration, desire and overwhelming lust breaking through his calm facade. "You can give everything to that arrogant bastard of a German, but when one of your team members wants to repeat the situation, you become suddenly shy?" He thrust another finger in with his first one. He knew, in theory, what he should do and began to scissor his fingers. He felt a small bump that was different from the rest of the area. He began to mercilessly stroke that spongy lump, stimulating Yohji from the inside. He closed his eyes and began to stroke the throbbing flesh that hung between his own legs. When Yohji and he groaned in tandem, sanity returned to Aya.

* * * * * *

Omi had come upstairs to check on Yohji and to find Aya. The redhead was late for his shift in the shop and Ken's soccer team had come looking for the athlete. This deviation from Aya's normal behavior worried the teenager. Ever since Yohji hurt himself, Aya had been acting strange, more on edge than normal - quicker to anger and slower to return to his senses. For some unknown reason the fact that Aya hadn't shown up for work bothered him and Ken finally agreed to let him go and look for their volatile team member.

A scuffle from the bathroom drew him on, like the moonflowers enticed moths. Aya's low rumble growled from behind the closed door and Yohji's slightly higher voice whimpered. Without a second thought, the young computer genius picked the lock and walked into one of the most horrifying sights that he had ever seen.

Yohji lay, curled up on the floor of the shower, blood dribbling from one corner of his mouth and his tall frame pulled into a tight, fetal position. Aya stood over the fallen form, his hands clenched into fists and his naked form shaking. Very little of what could be called sanity remained in the blank stare of Weiss' leader. He turned his head and glared at the petite blonde.

"You finish getting him cleaned up, Omi," Aya snarled. He walked toward the stunned youth, picked up his scattered clothing and walked out of the bathroom.

"Yohji!" Omi cried, rushing to the man's side. "What the hell happened? What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, Omittchi," came the soft reply. "Would you please help me finish what he started?"

"Okay… what's left to do?"

"Just my hair. If you'll hand me the bottles, I think that I can wash it myself." Yohji used the stability of the wall next to his left hand to help him rise to his feet.

Omi clucked over the taller man like an underage mother hen, making sure that all the soap and conditioner were washed out of the golden tresses before he helped Yohji out of the shower, handed him a towel and his clothes when he was ready for them and then led him carefully back to his apartment. They opened the door to find the room straightened, ashtrays emptied, bedding changed and the window opened to let in the soft summer air. Although the room carried traces of the redhead, Aya wasn't in the room. Nor was he anywhere to be found on that floor.

Omi got Yohji settled and went looking for the unofficial leader of the team. Aya's door stood cracked open, the unique scent of roses and something green and woody drifted out into the hallway. The total silence told the little blonde where he might find the cold, emotionless man. There would be only one place that Aya would retreat to, the dojo. Perhaps he would find the peace in the timeless rhythm of mind, muscle and steel. And Bombay intended to destroy that fragile tranquility. What he had witnessed in the bathroom disturbed him greatly. To see the fresh bruises on Yohji's body and to know that Aya had put them there appalled him. Granted, Yohji was acting like an idiot but that was no reason to beat the crap out of the injured man and he would make that very clear to the ice prince (as Yohji called him).

* * * * * *

Aya had rushed out of the bathroom, thoroughly disgusted with himself. To lose complete control — that was inexcusable. Why did he do that to Yohji? Was it the stress of watching another person that he cared for almost die at the hands of evil men? Or did Mastermind corrupt his thoughts and feelings the morning that he informed Aya of the liaison between the two over-sexed men?

Aya shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He raced into Yohji's room and quickly straightened the mess up. Fortunately, the tall blonde couldn't move too far from the bed without help, so most of the disorder had focused itself around the humongous monstrosity in the middle of the room. He changed the sheets, took out anything that might trip the Eurasian up and opened the one window to let the fresher air from outside to sweep any remaining foul odors out of the room. The soft whine of the water racing through the pipes warned him that the shower would soon be done. He grabbed up the soiled linen and sprinted out of Yohji's room, making sure to close the door behind him.

He placed the dirty bedding in the hamper that rested in the hallway between the two rooms and took the stairs two at a time, heading for the sanctuary of his bedroom. After he entered the cool darkness, it dawned on him that this room wouldn't be the refuge that he had hoped it would be - Omi could get just about any lock open in well under a minute. He snatched his katana out of its cradle and hurried down to the relative quiet of the dojo. Here he could work through his emotions and the events of the day. The soothing repetition of the katas would re-center his world and from there he could rebuild the protective walls that he kept tight around his heart. Somehow the thick ice of his protections had begun to melt and it left him feeling small and vulnerable.

He took a deep breath and began to slow move through the prescribed patterns, each one bringing him closer to the glacial aloofness that he once called his own. He chanted a mantra under his breath; _"I need no one. I want no one. I don't deserve to be loved. Neither Grim Reaper nor Angel of Death, I am just a murderer." _Over and over the words slipped past his lips. Slowly, he began to repair the damaged and melting walls.

His good intentions lasted until Omi cornered him in his lair. The small blonde showed no fear as he stared down the business end of Aya's katana, his ocean blue eyes hard and flat.

"Why Aya?" he asked.

"Why what," Aya growled, slipping the sword back into its sheath.

"Why did you do what you did to Yohji?"

"I got sick of his attitude," he snapped, glaring at the boy. "Beside, the whore deserved it."

Omi staggered back from the venom in the redhead's voice. He raised an ineffectual hand to protect his face from the lethal edge of Aya's words.

"Do you recall the night that I waited up all night for the slut?" he sneered. "And remember what we did after he slept his drunk off?"

"Do you mean his birthday?"

"Mm-hm. We threw him a party because we had forgotten his damned birthday." He took a menacing step toward the smaller figure. "We knew that he had been out slutting around, but do you realize who he was with that night."

"No," Omi softly said. "Who was he with?"

"None other than Mastermind." He gave the young man a sharp smile when he gasped. "That's right; our dear, sweet little whore spent the night with the madman from Schwarz. He's been sleeping with the enemy and maybe this accident was karma. He's getting just what he deserves." He turned his attention from Omi and back to the fixed patterns of the sword dances that he had been working on, all hope of clear-headedness and tranquility lost in a sea of conflicting emotions and over-stimulated hormones.

Omi quickly processed the information he had been given. What Yohji did in his free time, as long as it didn't affect the team, was the tall blonde's own business. But Aya's response to the whole thing confused the boy. For someone who wore such a cold facade, the redhead was showing some very seriously demented tendencies. Or maybe it was just a good, old-fashioned case of the green-eyed monsters. From now on, either he or Ken would have to be present when Abyssinian and Balinese were together. He nodded his head at that thought and then retreated back to the shop, offering to take Aya's place for this one afternoon.

* * * * * *

Yohji sat trembling in the middle of his clean bed. The pleasant numbness of shock had worn off and the reality of what had happened between him and Aya left him feeling devastated, frightened and depressed. Finally, all of his chickens were coming home to roost and he knew that everything that had happened was the karma that he racked up over the last two years. Even a dead man had to follow the unwritten rules of behavior or else he faced a lifetime (or would that be a death-time?) of penalties. Somehow Aya had found out about the little tryst that he had had with Schuldig the night of his birthday. Yohji had a good idea of where the information had come from, knowing the perverse German.

He had moved slowly toward the door, feeling his way and being careful of Aya's hand wrapped in the greasy strands of his hair. He knew that he should have taken a shower days ago, but couldn't work up the energy to do it. For the record, there were a lot of things that he didn't have the strength to do anymore, like getting out of bed, changing his sheets, his clothes, eating or hauling his scrawny ass down to the shop to help the others. The last one would be the hardest to do. He couldn't stand the thought of all the fan girls fussing over him and staring at him with pitying looks. He realized what they would see when they saw him…. a cripple, someone who needed help to do the simplest things everyday. He couldn't live with himself like this. If he just sat in the dark, then he could convince himself that he was fading away, ceasing to exist. This was his punishment for the life he led. The gods were chastising him for a lifetime of cheap booze, cheaper sex and cut-rate deaths.

The incident in the bathroom could easily be explained. For the first time since his accident, someone had been touching him in a way that wasn't pitying or distressed and Yohji's body let him know that it really appreciated the tender, almost erotic touch. But that couldn't be — it had been Aya giving him the bath, Mister Don't-Touch-Me prickly pear, the king of standoffish behavior. But the energy that pulsed down Yohji's spine couldn't be ignored; he let a small moan escape from between slightly parted lips. That sound had awoken him from the haze of good feelings. There he was, allowing Aya to wash his hair and do the things that he used to be able to do for himself. The frigid redhead who, in the past, had ignored the subtle passes that he made. He'd screamed and lashed out, knocking Aya's hands away from his body.

The worst thing about what occurred in the shower was the fact that his body wanted the abuse. After all this time, Aya started to do some of the things that he had dreamed of him doing, but instead of it being the wonderful passionate time that he had imagined, it left him feeling hollow and empty. Why was it that every time he found someone that he might be able to love, things went to shit before it could progress beyond the physical? Ever since Asuka died, shot down like a dog on the street; his life hadn't been worth a brass nickel. This thing with Aya proved that he had no right to be loved.

He was everything that Aya called him. No, he was worse. He hadn't asked for payment from the psychotic German. He never asked for a fee from any of the countless one night stands that he had had over the last twenty-four plus months. That made him a slut not a whore. Tears trickled down his cheeks, leaving their tracks of fire down his icy cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

**TEARS OF FIRE pt 4 **

_**Tears of fire;  
From a heart so cold.  
Tears of fire;  
Feel my flesh explode.  
Tears of fire;  
Burn into my soul.  
I could never let you go.**_

Aya paced the stifling confines of his room. His guilt destroyed what serenity he used to find in the Spartan, overly neat space. His guilt and the recurring dreams of what happened in the shower two days ago. He hadn't found the courage to face Yohji and even if he had, Omi wasn't letting him anywhere near the injured man without a chaperone. The little blonde even went so far as to post himself in front of Yohji's door at night, notebook ensconced firmly in his lap with a cord trailing into his bedroom so that he didn't wear the battery down. Aya had heard him muttering something to the effect of 'Thank the gods for wireless internet access.'

Aya threw himself onto the extra-firm surface of his bed, his body nearly bouncing off the bed with the force that he landed. There had to be some way for him to sneak into Yohji's room without Omi finding out. The only way that he could find to get in and out without being observed or thrown out would be to drug the chibi and then risk his wrath; or more importantly, Ken's rage. Aya stared out the window, waiting for inspiration to knock him over. A house sparrow landed on the ledge below the windowpane and Abyssinian took over his thoughts. He knew – now - how to get to his target.

The ledges on the building were almost as wide as his foot and if he were careful, he could transverse the length of the structure and shinny down the drainpipe in order to reach the floor where the object of his obsession resided. And Omi would never know that he had been anywhere near the golden god that haunted his dreams. All four of them had, at one point or the other, done something like this to reach one or more of the marks for Kritiker. As Omi was so fond of saying, this would be a piece of cake. All he had to do was wait for night to fall.

During the time that he waited, he prepared for every eventuality and placed the items that he would and could need into the pockets of his trench coat. He couldn't carry his katana; it would be too obvious and hard to explain away if, by some chance, he were caught. The whole project would be hard to rationalize if he made some error and Omi found out about it. There were times that he felt like the chibi was running the team from the shadows and that he, Aya, stood in as a figurehead because no one would believe that a seventeen year old kid could truly manage things the way he did.

He went back to pacing as the sun began to set and the shadows in his room grew longer and murkier. He didn't worry about turning on any lights; he knew where everything lay situated and since he took the time to tidy things up after he did anything there weren't piles of stuff scattered about the room. It was exactly eleven steps to the wall and eleven back to the bed. He passed the time by counting how many times he crossed that path. Light filtered in from the street and a full moon shone in on him, easing his passage. It would be a good night for the maneuvers he had planned.

He walked back and forth for hours, allowing the household to settle in for sleep. Every so often he would walk out his door and down to where the stairs were, listening for the clack of fingers on the keyboard and for the low monotone hum that accompanied the little blonde's used of the computer. When the clacks slowed down to clicks and the humming stopped for long periods of time, he knew that it would be safe to start the operation.

He slipped back into the twilight gloom of his room and allowed a few minutes for his eyes to truly adjust to the low light and then he carefully slipped the screen from the window and crawled out onto the ledge. The light pollution from the street lamps aided him in his quest, along with the silvering gleam of the moon. But even with the light that his eyes took in, things were difficult on the shelf. Pebbles cast their minute shadows and in the gloaming it was hard to tell if things were what they seemed or not. About the third time he tripped over a sleeping pigeon, he cursed all feathered fowl and then began stretching one foot out to push any obstacle out of his way. There would be a line of dead or dying sky rats come sunrise. At least the local cats would be well fed.

He finally reached the drainpipe and stopped to catch his breath. The way things were going at this point, he wouldn't be at all surprised if the damned gutter pulled free as he climbed down it. He sighed heavily and then began his descent. He reached Yohji's window without any other problems and carefully touched the screen, making sure that the window remained open. It wouldn't have shocked him to find that the team sexpot had closed it to keep the world at bay. Finding it still open, he carefully slipped a butterfly knife out of his left pocket, flipped it open and slit the screen around three edges, leaving it to flap in the night breeze. With as much stealth as he could muster, he slipped into the room, crouching on the floor in front of the casement to allow his eyes to adjust to the darker night in the room.

Yohji woke from a dream with a start. Something had set his defenses off and he unconsciously reached for the watch that he no longer wore, but left sitting on the stand next to his monstrosity of a bed. The sound of steel against the fabric of the screening grated on his ears. Someone had just broken into his room and he had a pretty good idea of who it might be. Or, better yet, the two someones that it could be. Since sneakiness didn't fit into Schuldig's style it would have to be the other redhead, the one who tried to rape him not so long ago.

For two whole days he had sat in his room, thinking about what had happened in the shower. Perhaps Aya was right and he deserved everything that had happened to him. But then again, the icy man could be wrong if these things were just fate and had nothing to do with karma. Or they could have been just coincidences and slowly things would return to normal.

The soft slither of a body sliding to the floor brought every one of his senses to alert. He might not be able to see, but his hearing had become much keener than it had been before the accident. He subconsciously pulled out enough of the strong, flexible wire to secure whoever had come into his room.

Omi must be asleep, since the chibi hadn't burst through the door to protect him. With a barely disguised snarl, he slipped off the bed onto the floor, tossed the wire, hitting dead on and then pulling it as tight as his bare hands would allow. The slim weapon pulled tight and he heard a low grunt of surprise. Balinese took over his being and he became, once more, the fierce killer that he had been in the past. The only thing that kept whatever part of Aya's body intact was the fact that he couldn't pull the wire any tighter without the threat of serious damage to his own hands. And, more importantly, he could tell that Aya had intruded in his personal space. The redhead's usual combination of male musk and the sweet fragrance of roses wafted past Yohji's overly sensitive nose.

Aya stopped his forward advance when the wire came zinging out of the darkness, he sent up a prayer to the gods, his guardian angel or whomever watched over him for the heavy leather of his trench coat. The lightweight wire hadn't cut through the solid material and into the delicate flesh beneath. The thought that Balinese had come out to play for the first time in weeks caused a wave of desire to sweep through his body. Abyssinian came into the forefront, guiding his reactions and thoughts. A small part of him wondered in amazement that there were two different personalities hiding in his body. Gods, he must be borderline schizophrenic.

"What are you doing, Balinese?" he snarled, twisting his arm just right to free it from the loosely wrapped wire. "Trying to hurt me? I figured you'd be used to strangers letting themselves into your room. I mean the whole team knows what a slut you are. And Omi now knows about your little tryst with that red-haired bastard from Schwarz. How long did you think you could hide it from us?" He quietly started moving toward the figure huddled on the floor, his feet moving with cat-like stealth, living up to his code name.

Yohji panicked when the wire went slack. He couldn't hear Aya, he couldn't see him and now he was totally defenseless against a man who had, more than once, shown his antagonistic tendencies toward him. The smooth, bare floor felt cool beneath his hands as he crab-walked sideways along the wall. Instinct told him that he needed to get to a place where he could better protect himself. The corner stopped him, giving him the kind of security he had been looking for. This way all he had to worry about protecting was his head. The walls on either side of him would guard the rest of his body. He curled into a tight ball, arms wrapped around his head, protecting his face and head. A small, distressed whimper slipped through his lips as he waited for Aya…no, Abyssinian to attack.

That tiny whine of terror sent Abyssinian back to the closet to await the next mission. Aya stood in the shadowy twilight of Yohji's room and choked back a sob of his own. For the second time in less than three days, he had threatened or attacked an injured man. Shame washed through him like a flash flood, nearly taking his sanity with it. Somehow, the team had always managed to keep their reason and now his was headed the way of his family.

The sight of Yohji hunched up on the floor, his body language screaming terror caused the bile to rise in the redhead's throat. He carefully knelt beside that trembling figure and drew him into his arms. At Aya's touch, Yohji went berserk, arms flailing, legs kicking. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his vocal cords frozen in terror. The redhead held on to his prize with gentle but strong arms.

"Sh-sh-sh, Yohji," he softly crooned, "You're all right. Calm down, no one's going to hurt you." The low rumble of his voice began hypnotizing the frantic man. Slowly, Yohji started to quiet down, his breath still coming it swift pants but the jerky motions of his body had ceased and he lay, shivering, in Aya's arms.

Aya ignored the ache from his left eye, where Yohji's elbow had connected with his face and he also disregarded the thin trickle of blood from his split lip. Right now the only thing that mattered was the delicate form in his arms. He gently rocked the blonde from side to side, singing some nonsense song that he barely remembered his mother singing to him when he had been frightened by something as a child. Carefully, gently he raised the blonde's face and placed a soft, reverent kiss on the full, lush lips. Aya moaned with the contact and deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into the depths of his partner's mouth.

Yohji whimpered as he tried to crawl deeper into Aya's arms. The redhead's tongue flickered out, licking the salty tracks left by his tears. Firm, warm lips grazed Yohji's face and traced a path down his jaw to the sensitive hollow behind one ear. Aya's sweet breath in his ear drove the blonde to distraction and he began to moan louder.

"Yohji," Aya sighed, "we need to be quiet."

"Huh?"

"Omi."

"Ah." Yohji knew that he wasn't being coherent, but he really didn't give a damn. He swiveled in Aya's grasp, so that he straddled slim hips and their bodies were rubbing together.

Somehow, Aya managed to get his knees under Yohji's ass and from there he stood up; thanking the gods that the lanky blonde had lost some weight during his recovery and that the decadent confection that Yohji called a bed sat less than four steps away from them. He didn't think he could have carried the blind man any further than that. When his knees made contact with the edge of the bed, he tossed Yohji into the middle of the silk-covered mattress, watching in anticipation as the blonde landed on his back, legs spread and the evidence of his arousal apparent through the loose, soft cotton of his pajama bottoms. He fell on the object of his obsession like a ravenous wolf, devouring every inch of caramel-colored skin he could find, nearly tearing Yohji's trews off in his haste.

Yohji moaned as Aya's lips and teeth attacked him. His fear vanished under the gentle ministrations of the fiery redhead. The thought of the quiet man being passionate took the leggy blonde by surprise; it wasn't too much of a stretch though – for some reason the stillest waters ran the fastest under the surface. He relaxed into the worship his body was receiving.

"Yohji," Aya moaned, licking the curves of the taller man's collarbone. He sucked on the juncture of neck and shoulder, marking his territory, claiming his mate in the most primitive of manners. His hands roamed over the bare expanse of the Yohji's chest, stopping only to torment the flat, brown nubs found there. His lips soon followed the lead of his hands. He took one tight bud into his mouth and began sucking, nipping and laving it, until the tight bud stood up at attention and the blonde's body shuddered with the sensations flying down stimulated nerve endings.

"Aya…more," Yohji groaned. He tried to pull the other man's face up for a kiss and Aya resisted him, kissing further down his flat belly. His soft, wet tongue outlined every muscle from Yohji's shoulders to his waist, stopping only the swirl his tongue into his belly button. The repeated action mimicked a more intimate act. And it was all Yohji could do not to scream when Aya's tongue swiped up the length of his cock and the tip slipped into the small slit at the very top of the organ. His hips bucked up off the slick surface of the bed.

He felt Aya grin against his penis. "What?" he gasped.

"Nothing," Aya rumbled, his breath puffing against the rigid hardness, causing a whole new set of shivers.

"You're getting a kick out of teasing me, aren't you?"

"Would I do that?" Aya asked laughter in his voice. "I thought that ice princes didn't know how to tease." He engulfed Yohji's engorged cock with his mouth, inexpertly swallowing it. He wrapped his fist around the base of the cock where he couldn't quite reach with his mouth. The very real, very inexperienced treatment his dick was receiving told Yohji more about the man pleasuring him than anything in the last two years. It finally dawned on the tall blonde that he would be the first – the only lover that Aya had ever had. Granted the redhead knew, in theory, what to do, he had never done any of this with a living, breathing partner. That knowledge caused Yohji to become harder than he had ever been.

"Aya," he whimpered, thrusting hard into the warm, wet orifice surrounding his organ.

Aya's long fingers slid down to his partner's balls. He carefully rolled the sack, squeezing and tugging. His hand drifted down more to the fragile skin between balls and ass. He began to stroke the skin in tight, concentric circles; stimulating Yohji's prostate from the outside. The bolts of pure pleasure had the older man's hips bucking off the slippery sheets and his hidden pucker opened a bit, relaxing under the stimulus. Aya's mouth worked its magic on the cock in it; his throat opened up and he swallowed the whole organ, humming as the head touched his tonsils.

"AYA!" Yohji screamed as he came. He lay on the silk sheets, body still trembling from the most intense orgasm he had ever experienced. He could feel Aya removing his pajama bottoms, but didn't have the strength to do anything to help. Then his body received what it truly wanted, Aya's smooth, pale skin glided against his.

Yohji's scream woke Omi from a dead sleep. The petite blonde shot to his feet, pulling out the three darts that he had secreted on his person, dropping his precious laptop onto the floor and his feet tangling in the power cord. He barreled into the room and stopped dead at the sight of naked flesh. Both Aya and Yohji lay on the midnight blue sheets totally bare. Neither of them had the presence of mind to even care that the most innocent member of the team stood in the doorway, face flaming.

"Aya!" Omi shouted, getting both men's attention.

"Omi," Aya rumbled from his place between Yohji's legs.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"Window. Got a problem with that?"

Omi chewed on the edge of his thumbnail. "I don't want you hurting Yohji."

"Chibi, he's not," Yohji said after getting his breath back.

"But I heard—"

"He made me come. That's all, Chibi."

"But—"

"It's all right, Omi. He didn't hurt me, 'kay? As a matter of fact it felt really good." Yohji blushed, the reality of the situation finally sinking into his sex-addled brain.

"Omi," Aya murmured, "Door. Use it."

"Wha-what?" the little blonde stammered.

"Door. Use it. Leave." The volatile redhead pointed toward the open door.

"Yohji?" Omi asked uncertain about what he should do.

"Go on, Kid. I'll be fine." He pulled Aya up toward the head of the bed. "I just think that there are a few things that me and Ayan need to talk out. Go to bed and if I need you, you're right next door and can hear everything."

"'Kay." The young man slipped through the doorway, closing the heavy slab behind him. He let out a little cry at the sight of his damaged laptop. "Fuck," he quietly swore under his breath. If he couldn't get the information off the trashed machine, he'd certainly fail his English class; the teacher probably wouldn't accept the excuse of the broken apparatus. He slipped into his room, shaking his head in confusion and disgust. Why had Yohji allowed Aya to remain in his room? What was really going on with the two of them? Would he ever understand adults? If this was the way adults were supposed to act, he'd never become one. They made no sense, just like the girls in his school or the fan girls that fluttered around the shop like so many butterflies.

Aya climbed up and curled his body around the long, lean one of his partner. He stroked every inch of bare skin he could comfortably reach, his hard on throbbing with every beat of his heart, but this night wasn't about him. This night was for Yohji, to help him heal after both his accident and the rough treatment he received at the redhead's hands.

"Aya," Yohji mumbled against his neck.

"Hm?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"I thought you hated me."

"Not really." He let out his breath in a soft sigh. "I was jealous."

"Aya," the tall blonde said, rubbing his face against Aya's chest. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. Now go to sleep," he said, shifting under Yohji to find a more comfortable position. The blonde's fingers drew lazy circles around his nipples and then began their descent southward. Aya grabbed his fingers before he could reach his goal. "Go to sleep, Yohji."

"But—"

"Now you sound like Omi. Sleep."

"Fine. Just lay there and suffer, see if I care."

"Yohji," Aya breathed into his hair. "The body can be ignored, if you have enough willpower to do it."

"I'm so glad that I don't follow your dogma. Your demands would kill any normal, red-blooded man. Hmph! The body can be ignored, yeah right."

"Yohji, sleep."

"'Kay," he yawned, his body pulling him closer to the brink of sleep. He'd worry about Aya's problem in the morning. Right now, sleep drew him and he couldn't resist the siren song. His sex-sated body craved rest and he'd be damned if he would ignore its pleading. He curled tighter to Aya's side and started to drift off. "Stay with me?" he mumbled.

"Always," came the quiet reply.

Aya woke to the feeling of something velvety soft and very wet tracing his lean muscles. A soft moan escaped his lips when he realized that Yohji's tongue was sketching out the shapes of his body, avoiding the area that cried the loudest for his attention.

"Gods, Yohji," he panted. "Don't tease!"

A wicked chuckle ghosted against his straining cock, causing the organ to jump toward its tormentor. "I haven't begun to tease, Ayan. Just you wait until I'm really ready to harass, then you'll know what teasing is." His expert mouth swallowed Aya's throbbing dick, surrounding it in hot, wet warmth.

The redhead's hips thrust toward that warmth, seeking to get closer to it. His whole body pulsed with the feelings that were sweeping over him. Lust ruled the day, but other emotions colored his feelings too. Love, joy and just the tiniest bit of happiness threatened to crack his façade and allow the true person beneath the veneer to come out. The combination of emotions brought him to a panic. He didn't deserve to feel this good, not while his parents were dead and his little sister lay in a coma, because of his inability to protect her.

Everything that he ever cared for seemed to die or go away. That feeling of worthlessness brought on a lot of the "Ice Prince" behaviors. He didn't want to risk getting close to people who would leave him alone like his family did. There were too many risks with what Weiss did. This feeling of helplessness didn't sit well with him. The need for Yohji's love and the approval of the others left him undergoing a serious crisis. They had already seen what happened to those that cared about him. Yohji's blindness was, in a way, his fault for caring about the leggy blonde. He began to struggle against the surge of softer emotions sweeping through his body. Those and the overwhelming sense of lust that their current activity brought with it.

"Yohji, no!" Aya yelped, trying to pull away from that talented mouth.

"Aya?" Yohji asked, letting the redhead's cock slip from his mouth.

"No."

"What's going on?" Yohji asked, confusion furrowing his brow. "Did I do something wrong?"

Aya rolled away from the warm, lush temptation of Yohji's body. He sat on the edge of the bed, trembling with fear and denied lust. The walls of his protections were crumbling from the ground up and he didn't know how to repair them. Before the deaths of his parents, he had been a serious but loving young man. He had teased and tormented his little sister, just like any big brother should. But in an instance that was all stolen from him and the walls of ice wrapped themselves tightly around the cold core that once had been his heart.

"You did nothing wrong, Yohji," he icily said. "Why don't you get up and start getting ready for the day?" He moved away from the bed. Yohji's blank eyes stared in his direction, seeing nothing. Blindness didn't mar the beauty of his eyes, if anything they were clearer: the emerald depths defenseless, their ramparts broken by the lack of sight.

"Aya, you promised to stay with me," Yohji whispered, the sound barely making it passed the lump in his throat. "I must have done something wrong if you're already going to leave." He held out an imploring hand. "What did I do? Aya, please tell me what I did wrong and how to warm you back up."

"Yohji, you didn't do anything. I need to go get ready for work." He started walking towards the door, trench coat lying over his right forearm.

"Aya!" the leggy blonde yelled at him.

"Huh?" He stopped and turned around to face the bed. "Wha….?" His question died on his lips at the sound of Yohji's wire singing through the room caught his ears. He made sure to stand very still as it curled around his bare wrist, the razor-sharp edges slicing off the top few layers of his skin.

"Get back here, Fujimiya," Balinese growled at him. "We're not done. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you leave me with blue balls, got it Red?"

"Balinese," Aya snarled at him, "Back down."

"Like hell I will." The wire grew taunt, giving the redhead two choices, either return to the temptation on the bed or lose his right hand, the hand that brandished his katana. He walked slowly back to the bed.

"What do you want, Kuduo?"

"I want to know why you suddenly went all icy on me," Yohji growled, pulling him closer. "I want to know what's going through your thick skull when you back away from me like this."

"I'm thinking that I need to get ready to open the store," he icily answered. "Now are you going to stop playing around and let me go or am I going to have to hurt you?"

Yohji made a guttural noise and pulled Aya's free hand, dragging the redhead back into the sybarite paradise he called a bed. With practiced ease, he handcuffed the reluctant swordsman to the headboard and began to finish what they had started no more than five minutes earlier. Velvet soft lips traced over the head of Aya's cock, as it peered over the edge of his foreskin, followed by the lush, wet pliability of his tongue.

"Do you know what I like the best about full-blood Asian men?" Yohji said, his breath puffing against the over-sensitive organ.

"N-n-no," Aya gasped out, trying his best to sound peeved and put out, but totally failing.

"There aren't too many of them that are cut. Most Americans and more than a few Europeans are like me and don't have the lovely protection that you do." Yohji applied himself to his task with great relish. The bittersweet fluid that leaked from the head of Aya's prick tasted like him – hot, bitter, musky with an overlaying sweetness that could show up in the redhead's personality. It never ceased to amaze him how people's character showed up in their bodily fluids.

Schuldig tasted like overripe cheese. Ken's cum carried the tang of old sweat socks (don't ask – don't tell). And Aya's was semi-sweet chocolate over ripe strawberries, the slightly bitter flavors of the fruit and candy along with just that proper amount of sweetness. He couldn't wait to savor the main course. But then he didn't intend on letting all that creamy goodness go to waste, when Aya came it would be up Yohji's ass – as it should be.

He released the throbbing organ from his mouth, with a loud pop, and moved toward the end of the bed still in the redhead's view. Before he reached his goal, he stopped and pulled a tube out of a drawer in the nightstand. He held it up where Aya could see it.

"What flavor do I have here?" he asked, holding up the tube.

"Strawberry," Aya choked out.

"Perfect." Yohji sat on the footboard, long legs spread and his nearly erect cock pointing toward the man handcuffed to the headboard. He slowly squeezed out some of the scented gel and began to rub it up and down his ruddy shaft, moaning loudly. The over-stimulated organ twitched with every stroke. He cupped and fondled his own balls, gently pulling the sack away from his body and rolling the firm spheres in his long fingers. A breathy moan escaped his throat, passion thrumming through his body. He aimed a wicked, wanton grin at Aya, as his fingers continued their slow, immodest crawl toward his tight pucker.

Aya's breath came in fast pants and he shifted, uncomfortably, trying to get his body closer to the golden figure at the end of the bed. Yohji's shameless teasing brought his blood to a boil and he reefed at the metal pinning his wrists in place.

"Yohji," Aya growled, "let me the hell up."

"Why should I?" he answered, sliding one long, tan, strawberry-scented finger into his ass. "Oh gods! This is good!" Lean hips thrust in the primal rhythm that thrummed through his body. Yohji moaned as he inserted another finger and began slowly stretching his tight hole.

Aya's breathing kept tempo with each twitch of the leggy blonde's body. His body strained to join the golden-skinned man teasing him from the end of the bed. He pulled on the handcuffs with all his strength, trying to free his hands. Yohji's throaty chuckle nearly drove him over the edge and watching those pale gold digits sliding in and out of the tight heat had Aya drooling before the second finger disappeared into the moist darkness. A third finger joined the first two and Yohji's hips rocketed off the footboard as he struck his own sweet spot.

"Oh god, Aya," Yohji groaned as he teased his own body. "Don't you wish you could join me?"

"Let. Me. The. Fucking. Hell. Up!" Aya ground out from in-between tightly clenched teeth. "Either you let me the fuck up or I'm going to tear the damned headboard off this monstrosity. You hear me, Yotan?"

"Promises, promises."

The lithe muscles in Aya's chest began to tremble with the strain that he placed on them as his wrists came closer to each other. He could clearly hear the handcuffs groaning their displeasure at his treatment and one of the links gave way with a soft, popping gasp. Soon, he'd have everything that he wanted and there would be no way in hell that Yohji would be able to stop him. It was full speed ahead and damn the consequences. A second link parted under his handling and his hands began to move free.

"You break them, Ayan, you've bought them," Yohji gasped out as his fingers struck his sweet spot once again.

"Then get your scrawny ass over here and let me go," came the growled answer. "I'll show you what to do with these damned things!"

"Will you, Ayan?" Yohji sighed, removing his fingers from his channel. "Will you do me good?"

"Yesssssss!" Aya cried in triumph as the chain linking the two cuffs came apart and his hands were free. "Get ready. I don't intend on showing any mercy." He threw the leggy blonde down to his hands and knees on the bed and found the tube of lubricant. With quick, jerky motions, Aya greased up his throbbing cock and then shoved it into Yohji's waiting orifice.

Yohji could hear one thing repeated clearly as Aya took what he wanted from him. Every thrust became punctuated with a breathily whispered "Mine!". It was a good feeling to be wanted and to want back. Somehow, they had moved beyond being adversaries and were moving into a new realm. Perhaps the two of them could make a real life together. Maybe they were meant for each other and their lives had been hell for just that reason. Or possibly his thoughts were just a load of horseturds and the only thing that they shared was an overwhelming physical need for each other.

Yohji's back arched as Aya slammed into his prostate. The redhead's fingers were digging into his hips and their bodies slamming together made an obscene counterpoint to their moans. He could feel the pressure growing, could see the gates of paradise just out of his reach. His body bucked and writhed against Aya's, striving for the perfection that awaited them both if they worked hard enough.

Like a tsunami, the feelings rushed over Yohji, swamping his senses. He cried out Aya's name and came against the bed. His anal muscles tightened around the redhead's dick, making movement almost impossible and the milking motions brought Aya over the edge.

They crumpled together onto the coolness of the silk sheets, Aya's body laying protectively over Yohji's lighter, taller one. They slowly disengaged from each other and lay down on the bed.

Aya pulled Yohji against his chest and cradled the other man in his arms. "We can deal with anything, as long as we're working together," he whispered into Yohji's ear. "We'll find a way for you to work as part of the team."

"Aya, I—"

"Don't," Aya said, placing his fingers over Yohji's mouth. "I don't want to hear anymore excuses or reasons why you can't do even the simplest of things. Please trust me and know that I will find a way for you to contribute."

"If you say so," Yohji responded, doubtfully. "I guess I don't have much of a choice but to trust you."

"Good." Aya pulled him closer and smoothed his hand down Yohji's back. "Now, let's try to get some sleep." He moved carefully, drawing up the sheet around the two of them and settling the lanky form better in his arms.

* * * * * *

Things went better after that night. While not perfect, Aya and Yohji found a common ground. The passionate redhead did some research and began separating out the flowers for his lover. And Yohji found that his lack of eyesight helped in the designing of floral arrangements. With Aya's help, his work became some of the most sought after in the Koneko.

Omi helped out by teaching the lanky blonde how to run his computer, going as far as to install special accessories for the blind. While he hated sitting at the keyboard, Yohji knew that his work there freed Omi up for the things that he couldn't do any longer. It felt good to be back to work both places and to know that he was carrying his share of the load once again.

Schuldig reared his ugly head only once and Aya's berserk mode made it impossible for the conniving orange-haired bastard to interfere. Aya's mind shut down to the point that the telepath couldn't read what his intentions were and Schu nearly got his manhood severed from his body. After that, he didn't seem too keen on playing with Yohji anymore.

After six months of blindness, Yohji resigned himself to that state. Somehow, accepting the inevitable seemed harder than it was. The morning after his acceptance, he woke to the sun glaring in his eyes. Which wouldn't have been so bad, but he and Aya had gone out to his favorite club the night before and barely beat the sun back to the house.

"Ugh," he moaned, pulling his pillow over his eyes.

"Yohji," Aya murmured, "what's the matter?"

"Sun. Eyes. Too bright."

"Go to sleep," Aya said, pulling him closer. It didn't occur to either of them until they woke up later that morning what Yohji had said.

Yohji reached out with awestruck hands and gently stroked Aya's cheek, his eyes following the movement of his hand.

Aya grinned at him. "Welcome back, Balinese."


	7. Chapter 7

**Interlude II**

Nagi snarled at the thin plastic wafer in his hand. For some unknown reason, the new board that he bought for his laptop didn't want to fit into place. The damned thing was the last piece he needed to place in order to for the firewalls that he designed to work properly. And the stubborn chunk of silicone wouldn't go into its carefully crafted position. He glared at it again, keeping his gift under tight control. While it would feel absolutely lovely to pulverize it back into its original form, that would be terribly wasteful and Brad Crawford didn't tolerate waste of any manner. He shuddered at the thought of his guardian. The American's temper could be very unpredictable. One day he'd pet Nagi for something he did and the next time he'd take his head off for the same offense.

The bespectacled American had taken up with the warped German who made his presence known in the group. Not only were the two of them doing "IT" in the oddest places, but they even included the insane Irish man at times. It was rather disconcerting to wander down in the middle of the night for a snack or something only to find a straight jacketed Farfarello being thoroughly screwed by the temperamental Schuldig, who in turn was moaning out his pleasure on Crawford's cock. The one and only time he had caught the three of them going at it; he about lost everything he had eaten in the last twenty-four hours and his hair nearly turned white.

Not that he was a virgin, far from it. But the thought of his serious and stable mentor playing the kind of games that he did with the other two squicked the telepath out. The wide variety of toys that Brad had in his possession boggled the mind; just by looking at the man you'd never know that he had a BD/SM fetish and forgotten more about causing pain than most people learned in a lifetime. Sometimes the Esset training could come in handy.

Nagi's stomach rumbled loudly, bringing the little telepath back to reality. The scent of food drifted up the stairs of the condo that the four of them were using at this point. He looked down at this watch and seeing the time, grimaced and then grinned. He'd have to creep down the servant's staircase, but there was no reason why anyone would see him sneak into the kitchen and steal a few morsels of food to still his grumbling tummy. Being locked away in his room was nearly driving him stir-crazy and he needed a change of scenery before he totally mangled his laptop. With those excuses in mind, he crept out of his bedroom and sashayed down the back stairway, right into the kitchen.

A smorgasbord of treats lay before him; oysters on the half-shell, escargot, sushi and other foods designed to arouse the passions and overwhelm the senses. The air drifting in from the living areas of the condo carried the fragrances of incense, perfume and the musky odor of sex. Curiosity overcame Nagi's normally good sense. Brad had told him to stay in his room this one night, because of a party that he and Schuldig were throwing but when had he ever really listened to the man who brought him to Esset's notice? His guardians really needed to explain things to him if they didn't want him to get involved with their plans. Besides, he did owe it to the Elders to make sure that whatever was going on didn't compromise security or threaten to expose the team for what they truly were…. abnormal freaks.

He peered around the corner between the kitchen and the living/dining room and his mouth fell open at the sight in front of him. About thirty people in various stages of undress lounged about the room. There were piles of pillows positioned to make comfortable areas for the visitors to recline. The comfy chairs and sofa that Brad had picked out when they moved into the condo were covered in either whore red silk or satin. But the most amazing thing was the people that filled the room.

Men in tight leather Dom gear or fragile looking males in collars with leashes decorated the room. Brad sat on one of the chairs, his eyes closed as Schuldig swallowed his cock. The flame-haired German couldn't escape the brutal treatment his mouth received at the hands (or would that be cock) of the American. A third man rammed into his ass as he blew Crawford.

Nagi slipped a little further out from the safety of the kitchen and looked for the demented Irishman. Farfarello had been strapped into his straightjacket and two men were in the process of giving him a serious case of rug burn on his face. The telekinetic's jaw threatened to become permanently unhinged at the things going on around him. Brad was throwing an old-fashioned, males only, Roman orgy. And the bastard had the cheek to confine him to his bedroom.

He had just worked up the courage to go tell his mentor/protector off, when a pair of fat, sweaty hands encircled his waist and pulled him close to a corpulent belly. The man behind him stank of old sweat and arousal. Nagi restrained himself before he flattened the old fart. He struggled to get away from the man who was now mauling him, but he couldn't. His fifteen-year-old body couldn't match the older man's for strength, even considering the shape the man was in.

_: Brad!:_ he called out for his guardian.

_: Nagi?:_ came the slurred answer. _: Where are you?:_

_: In the doorway to the room. There's some old man pawing me to death!:_

Brad looked towards where Nagi stood, entrapped. _: What did I tell you about staying in your room?:_

_: I got hungry.:_ Nagi wheedled. _: What, did you expect me to stay in my room all night without anything to eat or drink? I AM only fifteen, you know.: _He looked back at the man who held him captive and who started stroking the boy's groin through his jeans. _: Why do I get the feeling that I know this lump of lard?:_

: It's Mr. Yamamoto, the well-known pedophile.:

: Great. Are you going to help me or just sit there while I take his guts and wrap them around his neck.: Nagi snarled as the stroking became heavier.

_: Brad-Brad,:_ Schuldig's voice broke into the conversation. That was the one thing wrong with using the link the telepath set up between the members of Schwarz: no privacy when it came to personal issues. And the slightly insane German couldn't resist teasing his teammates about their personal quirks._ : I think the brat's getting annoyed at one of our guests. Whatever are we going to do about it?:_

: You're going to stay out of it. As a matter of fact, you will NOT_ tease him about what happened tonight. That is if you want to sleep in my bed and not in Farf's room this week. And Nagi, you are not to eviscerate one of our guests. Esset has plans for him at this time. :_

: Yes, Sir!: Schuldig shot down the connection. Nagi could almost see the redhead saluting their leader with his middle finger before clicking his heels together.

_: When they're done with the fat ball, can I have him to play with?:_ Nagi fired off down the line.

_: We'll discuss it at another time.:_

: Yes, Sir.:

Brad shoved Schuldig off his cock and sauntered over to where Nagi and Yamamoto were. He hadn't bothered tucking his equipment back into the skin-tight, brown leather pants he had put one for the evening.

"Mr. Yamamoto," Brad said, peering down his nose at the man. "I thought I explained, in very small, very plain words that Nagi was off limits to all my guests. Do I need to inform the Elders or sic Farfarello on you? He considers Nagi to be his little brother and it would make God cry to cut you to ribbons. Now, which will it be?"

"Neither, Mr. Crawford," the corpulent man said, releasing Nagi. "I didn't realize that it was your young charge that I was playing with. I thought that he was one more of the delicacies that you were so kind as to provide."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Yamamoto. You've seen him enough times to know who he is. Plus I've warned you more than once to leave him alone. The next time I find you copping a feel from him, I won't warn you, I'll just free Farfarello and let him have his way with you. Remember, you are expendable." Brad glared over at his ward. "As for you, get your snack and then get your ass upstairs, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. The next time I won't bail you out, understand?"

"Yes, Brad." Nagi pouted at him and then turned, glared at his former captor and filled a plate to overflowing with the treats in the kitchen.

Nagi scampered up the stairs, not caring if he spilled some of his bounty on the white carpeting. If Brad insisted on treating him like he had done something wrong or like a child, then he would act like a child. Sometimes things got confusing. There were days that everyone acted like he was an adult and they expected him to behave like one. And then they would turn around and start treating him like a child again. Even when he was a child, he'd never acted like one. His innocence had been stolen the first night he spent on the street as a four-year-old. But his comrades didn't seem to understand that fact. There were a lot of things that he knew.

The sights at the party had aroused him. Of course he had lost a little of that when he had been accosted, but the sights, scents and sounds that filled the air had brought back those feelings. He hurried into his room and got the chip into his computer by cheating. He used his Gift and very carefully set the plastic and silicone part into its proper place.

There was a chatroom that he had found, but he needed to work up the courage to go into it. The room didn't have a very original name (M4M – 18 and under), but it looked like it would be the place to go and meet some stud, who was near his age and maybe they could cyber and he could get rid of the bulge that threatened to split his zipper.

He quickly called up the chatroom and had to wait to get in. He tried every few seconds until he broke through the traffic jam and slipped into the room. Nagi stayed in the background, getting a feel for the room and seeing what others were saying. One boy seemed to have quite a few of the others wrapped up in the story he was telling.

**Nekochibi:** I couldn't believe my eyes.

**Shotgunner231:** What happened?

**Nekochibi:** I decided to use the computer in the common room. It's a little faster than my laptop and for this project that's what I needed, fast. Plus, my one roommate that stayed home had a girl in his room and they were making a lot of noise. I had almost gotten the damned thing done when two of my housemates got back in from clubbing.

**Billsbaby2005:** And?

**Nekochibi:** They came stumbling in, locked at the lip. The seme of the pair throws the uke down and promptly screws his brains out….in front of me. Thank god the computer is set off in a little nook and they couldn't see me. I never realized that they were into BD/SM….I about keeled over from shock. The things that you see when people don't know you're there.

Nagi smiled at the words coming across on the screen and made a decision – he'd IM the boy telling the story. He liked the way that Nekochibi told his tale; it was funny and embarrassing all at the same time. Plus it sounded like what had happened to him tonight, in a way. And he knew that it was a young man talking and not an adult trying to be a kid. For some reason, grownups always tried too hard and a lot of them used net-speak, something that had gone out of style ages ago. He sent an invitation and waited, patiently, to see if it would be accepted.

**Nekochibi:** Can I help you?

**Wyldchyld:** I liked your story. Wanna go somewhere private and talk?

**Nekochibi:** Sure. Where do you wanna go?

**Wyldchyld:** Moon and Dragon. That's a link to my private chatroom. I'll see you there.

**Nekochibi:** Gotcha.

Nagi smiled and for the first time in a long time felt truly happy. This could be the start of something wonderful. He carefully built up a wall around these feelings to keep Schuldig out. The obnoxious German tended to tease him about his relationships and he had learned to keep them and his feelings private. There would be no teasing him about anything now. He shut down the window for the community chatroom and opened his personal room. Soon he would know if this new person was someone that would be worth his time or not. New beginnings felt wonderful!


	8. Chapter 8

_All right, let's get this out of the way. I am TOTALLY ignoring Gluhen. I've never seen the show and really have no desire to. The only good thing about is Aya (love that waist-length braid), Yohji looks like Huckleberry Finn and sweet little Omi ends up being a bigger bastard that his father. The only way I know this is I have researched the episodes and have heard that most of the fans find it very disappointing._

_Now for the legal crap…I have nothing but five dogs and a baker's dozen of cats, so don't sue. You'd be better off trying to get blood from a turnip!_

_Now, there is a lot of yaoi in this chapter and for those that don't know that means male on male sex. And worse, it's rabid-bunny, chibi sex! So, if it offends, don't read._

**STANDING IN THE SHADOWS**

**Copyright 1989 Mr. Radar Music**

_**In the dark, there's a love that hides.**_

_**Is it true, are we blinded by?**_

_**Face the words; it's not in your eyes.**_

_**Tell me now; I'm the one for you, yeah**_

_**I'm alone again, deep inside, cold sets on in.**_

_**Lurks in the shade, on top of our lives.**_

_**Gotta know if this love is gonna stop or go.**_

Omi stared at the computer screen. He had been forced down into the mission room by Ken. The athlete had brought a girl home and the two of them were so noisy that it became impossible for the young blonde to finish his schoolwork. Things got a little disconcerting when the pictures on his wall began to rattle in time with the beat that the two in the other room were setting. Even Yohji, in the heights of his hedonistic lifestyle, hadn't brought a girl home.

The racket made a good excuse for Omi to use the larger, faster computer downstairs. He had been getting a little frustrated with his laptop. He needed too many windows opened at once for the 'puter to truly run smoothly. Besides, here he didn't have the constant distractions of his portable DVD player or the games that he had loaded on his notebook. The mission system didn't have any of the bells and whistles he had put on when he bought the new laptop.

He kept the lights to a minimum, reveling in the twilight gloom. He must have nodded off; because the sound of the door, leading to the garage, opening woke him. He rubbed his sore cheek and tried to remove the indentations from the keyboard.

Yohji and Aya stumbled into the room, locked at the lips. Aya pushed the leggy blonde against the wall and began to devour his mouth. He had one hand wrapped in the long, golden tresses and the other roughly kneaded the skin-tight brown leather at Yohji's groin.

"Aya," Yohji moaned, bucking his hips into the forceful embrace.

"Who do you belong to?" Aya rasped, biting at the exposed neck.

Yohji's head listed to one side as he thought. "That American from the bar?" he answered.

"I don't think so," Aya growled, raising his right hand and backhanding his partner.

"Oh god, Aya," Yohji moaned, shuddering with excitement. "I can't remember."

Aya grabbed the neckline of Yohji's shirt in both hands and tore it in half. He attacked the bared skin with nimble fingers and eager lips. He sucked and licked the golden column offered to him. And then sank his teeth into the rich, fragrant skin, marking the other man. The eager moans and sighs encouraged him to continue. He bit and licked his way down the bare chest, stopping to lick, suck, bite and twist the brown nubs that adorned the lithely muscled expanse.

Omi stared at his two teammates in shock. To see the normally taciturn Aya acting like one of the players in some of the porn that Yohji left lying about the house was a definite turn on. And Yohji's response, like a good little uke, only doubled the reaction. One small part of his brain thought that it would be a good idea to let them know of his presence. The larger parts of him suggested that he just sit and watch the show. It might be the only time he got to see Aya acting like a normal person.

Aya reached into one of the knee-length boots he had worn and pulled out a butterfly knife that had been masquerading as a decoration on the smooth leather. He flipped it open, with practiced ease, and pressed the flat of it against Yohji's cheek. The point of the blade scored one corner of the leggy blonde's mouth and then drifted down his bare chest to the front of his leather pants.

"Take them off," Aya commanded, running the tip of the knife back up Yohji's chest.

"Take what off?"

"If you don't want me to cut your pretty leather pants off, then you'd better start stripping." Yohji scrambled to remove the skin-tight, sweat-soaked leather.

Aya stood and tapped the flat of the blade against his palm. When Yohji stood before him, naked and shivering slightly in the cool air, he gave him a malicious, slightly malevolent grin.

"Bend over the couch," Aya said, pointing the switchblade at his unfortunate, but very aroused victim.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes…Master," Yohji sighed, his whole body trembling in either fear or excitement or a combination of the two. He bent over the back of the sofa, his round, firm ass sticking up in the air.

Aya growled low in his throat and ran a possessive hand over the offered flesh. He knelt behind his prey and spread the firm globes with his fingers. He buried his nose in the crack and Omi could see the tip of his tongue snake out and trace the hidden pucker.

Yohji moaned, his hips thrusting toward the instrument of his torture. His hips were quickly pinned to prevent a repeat of that action and Aya's talented tongue darted deeper into the hidden recesses of the leggy blonde's body. His grip on Yohji's body barred him from rubbing his groin against the rough fabric of the couch and getting the friction that his cock demanded.

"Oh, god, Aya! Please!" Yohji begged.

Aya pulled his face away from the area he had been tormenting. "Please who?" he demanded, slapping on golden globe with his palm, leaving a pink mark that swiftly turned flame red.

"Please, Master!"

"Please Master, what? What do you want, eh Bitch?" Aya's baritone rumbled in his chest.

"Oh, god! Anything you want! Just fuck me!"

"Lube."

"Front right pocket of my pants," Yohji sighed.

"Good boy," Aya said, patting the blonde on the head and moving swiftly over to the discarded trousers.

Omi could see that Aya's cool attitude was an act. The front of the redhead's pants had become so full; it was a wonder that he didn't rupture the gussets. He watched in amazement as the quiet redhead found the small packet of lubricant and smeared it over his stiff rod. He stood behind his prey and shoved the silken steel of his length in without stretching the orifice first.

"Aya," Yohji groaned as he bucked back against his lover.

"Gods, I've wanted to do that to you since the dance floor. You're such a little slut. I can't believe that you were flirting with me standing right there." Aya stopped his motion and stood as still as a statue. "I really ought to find a way to make you pay for that one."

"Please, Master!" Yohji begged, thrusting his body against the still form behind him. "Damn it, Aya…MOVE!"

Omi watched as Aya thrust his body deep into the leggy blonde's. His hand crept toward the front of his shorts and he started to rub against the hardness he found there. He slipped one hand into the confining material and carefully drew his swollen member out, shivering as the cool air of the room caressed the overheated flesh. Remembering that it probably wouldn't be a good idea if the mating assassins found him observing their private time, he slid down between the computer desk and the wall. He knew that his slight body would be invisible, unless they came into the alcove to check the computer. He thanked his lucky stars that it wasn't unusual for the team to leave the machine up and running; in case Kritiker needed to leave them some information on one of their missions. He fisted the organ, sighed as he stroked it in time with this rapidly beating heart and bit his lower lip, holding back the moan that threatened to escape.

A pearly drop of pre-cum glistened on the tip of his engorged cock and he used the fluid to lubricate the frantic motion of his hand. Carefully, he fell over onto one side, in order to see the tableau going on in the room. Aya was thrusting into the compliant body with vigorous energy and the same attention to detail that he used on every mission. And Yohji sang with every impalement, his voice creating a symphony of moans, groans and pleas for mercy. Then things came to the inevitable conclusion. The leggy blonde cried out and came all over the battered, cheap velour of the couch and Aya followed him a few seconds later. Both men sagged to the cool, cement floor and lay there snuggled together.

"Yohji," Aya whispered, when he could speak again.

"Yeah," the blonde answered. "Whatcha need, Aya?"

"I really wish you wouldn't flirt with other men with me standing right there." He sighed and pulled his lover closer. "I realize that you're just trying to get me worked up, however it makes me nervous and I don't wanna lose any time with you due to a fight. I mean, who knows when one of us is going to be taken out during a mission? Schwartz is increasing their presence with every day and…well…who knows."

Yohji looked up at the redhead and gave him a sweet smile. "Let's compromise. I won't flirt with anyone without asking from now on, how's that sound?"

"You mean we'll plan it out so that we can end the night like this?"

"Um-hm and then you can punish me for being a very bad pussy," he answered, his voice containing barely controlled laughter.

"Agreed, however, we're going to have to be more careful about where we're getting' it on." The blonde gave him a confused look. "Omi, he's got a direct line to Kritiker and I know for a fact if they think that you're spending too much time having fun they will force you to leave the group."

"How…? Never mind," Yohji said, looking at the serious look on Aya's face. "Let's head off to bed, Ken's got the first shift tomorrow and Omi's gonna help him in the afternoon, when he gets home from school. That means that we have the whole day to lounge around in bed." He stood up and started walking toward the stairs, his slender hips swaying in a provocative stride. Aya followed like a starving man being lead to a feast.

Omi stroked his cock harder, bringing himself to the conclusion his body was demanding. He got to his feet, trying not to think about the hurtful things that Aya had said about him or about the lack of trust his teammates had in him. He scrambled over to the computer and signed on the internet. He found a room that he had come across in his frequent forays online, M4M – 18 and under.

Once in the room he told his story and was IM'd by the mysterious Wyldchyld. The two of them stayed online talking and cybering until well past the time that Omi needed to leave for school. A yawn splitting his head in half brought him back to reality. He looked at his watch and swore under his breath.

"Ah, Wyldchyld," he quickly typed onto the glowing screen.

"Yeah, my little neko?"

"I'm supposed to be in class right now and I'm going to need to go so that I can call in sick for the day. Thank god that it's only a half day and not a whole one."

"You go to regular classes?"

"Yep, what about you?"

"My guardian homeschools me; he's not real fond of the school system here and I have some issues that prevent me from attending regular classes." The typing on the screen seemed a little wistful to the little blonde. "I would love to be able to go to school with kids my own age and see what it's really like."

"You're not missing much, except the occasional class bully, the stubborn cliques and snotty girls who dress like whores, yet don't put out."

"Ah, then I'm not missing much." The screen became still for long enough that Omi thought his new friend had left or been booted offline. "Neko, do you think we could meet?"

"Oh, god! I'd love that. I've got all day off tomorrow. Wanna do it then?"

"Sounds like a winner," the answer came back. "Where?"

Omi thought about it and then decided on the small coffee shop he passed everyday on his way to school. "What about the Columbian shop? They have the best coffee and tea in the city."

"Sounds good, what time?"

"How about one o'clock? They won't be too busy, so we'll be able to have privacy, but we'll still be safe in case one of us is a pervert."

"Alright, I'll see you then."

They both signed off at the same time and Omi sighed tiredly; and then a happy smile brightened his face. He was going to meet someone with whom he had a lot in common. They were both lonely, being raised by persons other than their parents and they both had some serious secrets. He didn't know how he knew that about his date, but the evasive way the other boy had danced around certain subjects just made the little blonde sure.

He stood up and stretched until his vertebrae popped back into place. Then he scurried up the stairs, stopping only to call the school and inform them he wouldn't be in that day, and then headed to his room. He fell onto the fully made bed and fell asleep before he had time to cover himself. His descent into sleep was so sudden, that he didn't have time to snatch up the darts he kept by the bedside for protection.

He woke to darkness and the sounds of Yohji bitching downstairs. He looked at his watch and realized that it was almost six o'clock in the evening. Somehow not only had he slept the entire day away, but he was under the covers and stripped to his underwear. It had to be one of his teammates; they were the only ones that he wouldn't attack with very gruesome results. He sighed and sat up. There was something he needed to do before things got too late.

A light tap on the door alerted him to one of his roommate's presence.

"Omi?" Aya's voice came through the door. "Are you awake?"

"Come on in, Aya," he answered, swinging his legs out of bed. "Sorry I slept so late."

"It's all right, Yohji and I filled in for you at the shop and I made sure you were okay before we started our shift"

"Well, that explains how I got undressed and covered up. I'm sorry that I've been such a bother today."

"It's alright, just so you're feeling better."

"I was just overtired, that's all." He considered his words carefully. "Aya, I have something to confess."

"What?" the redhead asked, becoming suspicious.

"I was in the mission room when you and Yohji got home from the club last night." He held out a hand to stop the barrage of words before they started. "I have no intention of reporting any of this to Kritiker. If it makes the two of you happy, then it's none of their damned business. The only time I'll have to report it is if it interferes with the missions. We all deserve a little happiness in this world and in our jobs we need it more than other people." He reached for the jeans sitting on the bedside table and pulled them on. "I'm starving, what's for supper?"

"Take out sushi," Aya muttered his cheeks turning brilliant red. "Yohji whined and cried until he got what he wanted."

"Can't resist him, can you?"

"No," came the quiet answer.

_**Don't you know what I want?  
Go, go, go  
Don't you know what I want?**_

_**Chorus**__**  
Cause I'm standin', standing in the shadows of love.  
Yeah I'm standin', standing in the shadows of love.**_

Omi walked into the café, folded up his umbrella and looked around the nearly empty dining room. A few school girls sat where they had a good view of the door, an elderly man nursed a cup in the back and a handful of Yakuza wannabes sat with their backs against the wall and clear line of sight to the door. Where the toughs were, was right where Omi wanted to set up base. He moved over to a table that didn't have the best view, but it would work and was easier than trying to explain how four very healthy young men dropped unconscious in a place that didn't serve alcohol if he used his darts. He settled in, ordered a pot of tea and waited for his new friend to make an appearance. The storm that had been spitting rain all day finally got serious and the clouds opened up and dropped sheets of water on the city. Growls of thunder broke up the monotony. Just when the storm seemed like it had reached its climax, the door blew open and the one person Omi really didn't want to see today strolled in, clothing, hair and body perfectly dry… Prodigy. The dark-haired boy looked around the shop, his posture becoming stiff when he located Omi sitting across the room from him. He pulled out his cellphone and began to type furiously on the keyboard.

Omi's cell vibrated in his pocket and he slipped it out carefully, loosening one of his darts just in case. The screen showed an unfamiliar number, but one that he had learned in the short time between when he got off his computer and now. Wyldchyld was none other than Prodigy…one of his team's greatest enemies.

_Where r U?_ flashed across the screen. Omi almost didn't answer, but the look of utter disappointment on the other boy's face made him.

_Over here! _he texted back._ You looked right at me…Prodigy._

Nagi turned on his heel so fast it was a wonder that he didn't fall over. He stalked over to the table and pulled the chair out without touching it.

"So, Bombay," he said, glaring at the teenager seated across from him. "Is this your idea of a joke? Are you scrutinizing Schwartz for weaknesses? Thinking maybe you can overpower us?" His body remained stiff and almost quivering with tension.

"Actually, I didn't realize it was you until you walked through the door." He gave Nagi a sad, half-smile. "I knew the boy that I got to know and was attracted to had a secret, but I never suspected that it would be Prodigy from Schwartz. Talk about your comedy of errors, the two youngest members of rival assassination teams meeting in a public chat room and meeting in the open." His smile widened a bit at the irony of the whole situation. "Looks like we've got more in common than we thought; we're both lonely, are interested in both sexes and are your average, horny teenagers."

"Yeah, you were interested in the Ouka girl that Farfarello and Schuldig accidently killed," he said, looking at Omi through a thick veil of lashes. "Didn't she turn out to be your sister or something like that?"

"Yes," Omi answered, a faint blush painting his cheeks. "But in my defense, I didn't know she was my sister until after she was mortally wounded. I guess that's why kissing her was a little squicky." He wrinkled his nose up in distaste.

Nagi gave a little, stilted laugh and then settled back down into silence. His face crinkled slightly as a thought passed through his mind. "Do you have any dirt on your teammates that might prevent them from trying to separate us?"

"I have a recording that I stole out of the camera in our mission room of two of them going at it like rabid bunnies on the couch. What about you?"

"You wouldn't believe what I have on them!" the dark-haired boy said, perking up in his seat. "How the hell are we going to explain all this to them?"

"What they don't know, won't hurt them," he answered, looking around them. "Why don't we get out of here and find a quieter place."

"Huh?" Nagi said, looking blankly at the other boy.

"Let's go and find a place that we can be alone and do the things that we had planned on doing before we found out who the one was. Do you have any ideas where we can go?"

"I might just have the perfect spot and it should be available today."

"Really? Where would that be?"

"I found a card key for the Tokyo Hilton in the pocket of one of Schu's suits. It's a penthouse suite and I doubt very much that neither he nor the other two are in any shape to visit the room. All we have to do is go into the building and up to the floor, using the key."

"What abou…."

"Don't worry about it not working," Nagi interrupted. "I checked that it worked before I came here. That's why I was a little late." He blushed and looked down at his shoes. "I think that we'd be safe there and have a little peace and quiet."

"Good, let's head out then," Omi held his hand up for the waitress and paid his tab with enough Yen to cover the drink and leave a respectable tip. "I've got my scooter, if you don't mind being seen on that."

"A lot faster than taking the subway and if worse comes to worse; we can always take to the sidewalks."

_**In love, with a lying heart.  
Dressed in black, the shadows dark.  
Trapped inside, a love that cast, of shade,  
of a love that's gonna stop or go.  
**_

_**Bridge**__**  
Don't you know what I want?  
Go, go, go  
Don't you know what I want?**_

_**Chorus**__**  
Cause I'm standin', standing in the shadows of love.  
Yeah I'm standin', standing in the shadows of love. **_

The trip from coffee shop to the hotel was torture. Nagi's lithe body plastered against his, his slender hand stroking up under Omi's tee-shirt and the feeling of the Telekinectic's groin pressed against his ass caused the kitten to become very distracted. He nearly killed the two of them when he ran a red light and they almost hit a semi. He ran up on the sidewalk and stopped to catch his breath. Nagi laughed softly in his ear.

"What are you trying to do, Neko? Get the two of us killed. I can see it now, both teams standing over our graves promising never to fight again."

Omi giggled at the picture the younger boy was drawing. "Yeah, I can see Yohji flirting with Schuldig and driving Aya out of his mind."

"Both him and Crawford," Nagi snickered. "Can you see them glaring at each other and threatening the other members of the teams. Oo …. Ken and Farfie would be staring at each other; Ken trying to figure out what Farfie was doing and Farfie trying to find the best way to make God cry."

They reached the hotel and they slipped up to the appointed room. With their line of work, getting passed a couple of rent-a-cops was a piece of cake. Omi could have done it in his sleep, sometimes it scared him how easily sneaking around came to him. After some of the places that he and the others had broken into, it was nice to just have to avoid a couple of security guards and not even worry about the cameras and other electronic paraphernalia.

They walked into the room, after slipping off their shoes, both of their mouths hanging open. The suite was one of their best. Big screen TV in the living room space, a fully stocked bar, Jacuzzi tub in the floor of the bedroom. A bed the size of the Queen Mary II and one of the best views Omi had seen of the city.

"I didn't realize that Schu had a place like this," Nagi said, keeping his voice down. "I know that he often gets a separate hotel room, or at least separate from where we're staying. I just didn't grasp what kind of room it was. I wonder if Crawford knows about this."

I don't kn…..Ow!" Omi yelped as something stuck into the bottom of his foot. He sat on the bed and removed a very familiar earring from the pad just below his right great toe. The gold hoop with the carat diamond looked just like one that Yohji owned and Omi hadn't seen in a few weeks. "I think your Schu and my Yotan have some 'splaining to do."

"What?" Nagi questioned, coming over to see what the youngest kitten had in his grasp. "Is that Balinese's?"

"Um-hum," he said glaring at the jewelry. "I have no clue when Yotan could've come in contact with Schuldig, but I can believe that they used this room for just what Mastermind had in mind. And knowing Yohji, it wasn't be force that he ended up here."

"Let's forget about them and the teams and just concentrate on what we're here to do," Nagi whispered, his hands running over Omi's clothing.

Omi slipped the earring into his pocket and then pounced on his new friend. Their lips met in a sloppy, inexperienced kiss; or at least inexperienced from Omi's point of view. Nagi carefully lead him on the dance. He nibbled on the strawberry lips and when the little neko took a deep breath in; he thrust his tongue in and began plundering the older boy's mouth. Clothing flew everywhere and soon they were lying on the cool sheets.

Nagi kissed down the bare expanse of Omi's chest, stopping to ravish the pert little buds on either side of his sternum. He sucked, licked and nibbled on the kitten's nipples, then kissed his way down to Omi's bellybutton. His tongue dipped into that delectable depression and the other boy giggled. His tongue trailed down further until his nose was buried in the nest of curls protecting the older boy's cock.

Nagi smiled up at his lover and then licked from root to tip the throbbing, turgid organ right in front of him.

"Nagi, stop it," Omi gasped, breathlessly, "or I'll never last."

"Maybe that's the idea."

Omi rolled them over and began repeating the other boy's action. Nagi closed his eyes in bliss. For the first time in his life, he was receiving pleasure from a partner. He hadn't escaped the horror of the streets unscathed. His ethereal beauty made him a prime target that and the fact that he was under five made him a pedophile's wet dream. But in some ways it was also his salvation. Brad had heard the commotion as Nagi was taking his pimp and John apart without even being able to touch them; he'd been driven past sanity by the demands of the pervert who had rented him for the night. But now, he had a lover who was treating like an irreplaceable treasure and one that worried about the Telekinectic's pleasure as well as his own. Who know that a cold-blooded assassin could be one of the best paramours he'd ever had the joy of meeting.

The little blonde's head dipped as he followed the path Nagi traced on his body; stopping to play with his nipples and to suck and lick out his naval. His tongue trailed down the ebony-haired boy's pale, fragile skin to the jet nest of curls. He licked the whole, throbbing length of his partner; savoring the bitter-sweet drops of fluid leaking out of the tip of his cock. He then took the swollen member in, swallowing as much as he could easily.

Nagi fell back against the soft, silken sheets, fisting the cloth to keep from floating off the bed. Omi's tongue drifted lower as he licked between Nagi's balls and hidden pucker. The little Telekinetic gasped as he felt himself being rimmed. Bombay's tongue swirled around his asshole then pushed its way in. During this time, the archer's free hand was busily pumping the other boy's cock. For the first time in a long time Nagi shot his wad all over the sheets, not waiting for his boyfriend to follow. He came so hard that all he could see for the longest time was a field of white. He collapsed onto the bed and sighed with satiation, nearly falling asleep. His content lasted until he felt eager fingers circling his private spot. Somewhere Omi had found some lube and had used it to slick up his fingers. One digit slipped in and began moving in and out. It was soon joined by a second and that one hit the spongy bundle of nerves that sent the telekinetic off the bed, leaving only his heels and back of his head on the support. A third finger joined the duo and then all three slipped out, leaving him feeling very empty. Gentle hands on his hip encouraged him to roll over onto his hands and knees. As soon as he reached that position, his emptiness was filled with one strong thrust. Omi ground their bodies together, thrusting harder and harder, trying to reach that plateau of heaven. His ragged, inexperienced lunges kept hitting Nagi's prostrate, sending waves of pleasure through his overwrought body and bringing him closer and closer to completion.

"Harder, Omi!" he screamed, thrusting back on his cock. "Harder!"

"I don't…."

"Give a shit," Nagi squealed, "just do like I want. Make me cum on that beautiful dick of yours"

The older assassin thrust in harder and hit his sweet spot with just the right force and angle, driving Nagi over the precipice of pleasure and making him cum one more time. As his ass muscles tightened around Omi's cock, that brought him to completion and the two of them collapsed onto the bed, utterly satiated and on the edge of sleep.

"Omi?" Nagi asked after they had slept for a while. "How are we going to explain this to our teams?" He sat partway up and looked down at the sleepy kitten. "I know that Brad would love to get his hands on Aya and Schu has already had Yohji. I don't think that Farfie has any designs on Ken, but that doesn't mean that he couldn't be manipulated to be interested; I mean all Schu has to do is tell him that by raping Ken he's hurting God."

"And if that happens Aya's gonna draw his katana and scream SHI-NE! at the top of his lungs and try to take out Crawford and then Schuldig." He looked down at the bedding, interlacing his fingers with Nagi's. "I don't know what we can do, except keep this a secret and when our teams meet, we'll have to ignore all that we share and go at each other full-throttle, no holding back just because we have something special. And maybe if you can get free of your handlers and I can get out of Weiss, we'll be able to be together." He sighed and kissed the other boy. "Maybe one day."

"Yeah."

Aya walked down the street, following their latest target. The man was a slippery customer and tonight was his night to do the reconnaissance. Both Omi and Ken had spent the better part of two nights watching the man and after tonight's work (if he stays on script) the bastard's death warrant would be signed, sealed and delivered. The yakuza boss that was working with an unknown party followed his prewritten screenplay to the T. Once Aya left him at his favorite bar, he started back to the Koneko when a familiar scooter came into view and sitting on it, sucking face was Omi and Prodigy. From the looks of things, this wasn't the first time they were together, either. He started toward the pair and then remembered something that had happened not too long ago. He turned on his heels and walked away, leaving the pair to their games.

When Omi snuck in the mission room from the garage, he was startled to see one person sitting on the battered green couch. Aya. The de facto leader sat alone in the dark. His hands rested on his knees and Omi could see that the other man was unarmed.

"Omi," Aya said, breaking the silence.

"Aya-kun," he answered back. "What can I do for you?"

"I saw something rather disturbing tonight."

"And that would be?"

"I saw one of my teammates with a member of Schwartz….Prodigy if I'm not mistaken. Which we both know I'm not."

"I….um…."

He stood up and walked to the younger man. He reached out and carefully ruffled his hair. "As long as it doesn't interfere with the team, I have no reason to inform Kritiker. But believe me, if you are unable to complete a mission because that little punk shows up; I will inform Manx and Persia myself, understand?"

"Yes and thank you, Aya."

He shrugged and started walking out of the room, "We all deserve a little happiness. Us more than others."

"Aya," Omi said, reaching into his pocket. "You might want to give this back to Yohji." He tossed the earring over to the redhead.

Aya caught the gem without really looking back. "Thanks, I will."

After the other man left the room, Omi sat down heavily on the couch, for some reason he felt better knowing that one of his teammates knew what was going on and could help disguise the fact that the computer expert was sleeping with the enemy.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Here it is…the final chapter! Thank you to all who have read my silly little drabbles and for the wonderful reviews! Keep reading and may all your days be filled with bishonen! **_

**Now for the legal crap…don't own, so don't sue. Although, if anyone needs any cats I've got plenty!**

**Epilogue **

Omi bobbed to the surface. All around him, chaos reigned. The remnants of the building they had just escaped rained down on the water like deadly hail and flames lighted the dark, giving the night a hellish glow. Off to his right he could see Aya and Ken helping Yohji out of the water, the leggy blonde lay half-conscious in his teammates' arms. And to his left he could see Farfarello capering in a mad jig while Schu dragged an exhausted Crawford out of the chilly water.

He began to panic when a certain little Telekinetic didn't make his appearance in the choppy, freezing water. The little blonde's eyes scanned the water, looking everywhere for the frail form that had come to mean so much to him over the last three months. Finally he noticed a blob of white moving up and down with the agitation of the sea. The twenty yards between them were the longest of his short life and the swim over to his lover seemed to last forever.

"Nagi!" he screamed, trying to get the other boy to wake up and answer him. When he reached the limp form, he rolled it over and felt for a pulse. The Telekinectic's heart beat with an uneven rhythm and he wasn't breathing. Omi swam for the shore, ignoring everything but his dying lover.

As soon as he got to the point where they were on somewhat dry ground he pumped on the other boy's chest, pushing sea water out and air in. After the required one hundred compressions, he gave the dark-haired boy two quick breaths then returned to compressions. Never before had he ever been so glad for the required CPR classes. At least he knew what he was doing.

On the third round of breaths, Nagi's tongue swirled into his mouth and they started kissing. The kisses got hot and heavy until a fit of coughing forced them apart. The Telekinetic spat and hacked up the water that he had breathed in while unconscious and floating.

"Omi," he breathed, falling back onto the cold sand.

"Right here, loverling," Omi answered, taking his boyfriend's hand. "Feeling better?"

"Looks like I owe you one." Nagi sat up and started looking the blonde over. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, but I thought you were really pissed at me."

Nagi smiled softly at the other boy. "No, but I did remember that we promised to give it our all if we had to face each other with our teams. I couldn't afford to let Crawford, or worse, Schu find out about us."

"Well, Aya already knows about us." At the confusion on the other boy's face he smiled. "He caught us on one of our make out sessions."

"He must agree with it or we'd be dead."

"He said as long as it didn't interfere with our work, he really didn't have any reason to forbid it or report us to Kritiker." He looked toward his teammates. "I guess it's payback for me not telling the powers that be about him and Yohji."

"I don't think that Crawford's going to be that understanding."

"Well, we'll find out in a minute or so," Omi said, nodding to the two teams that were heading in their direction. "Heads up."

Crawford limped over and looked at the young man who had helped him and his team to take down the Elders of Rosenkreuz. He really wanted to hate the little blonde, but the air swirling around him and the other members of the team warned him to take it slow or they were going to find themselves in the same predicament when they killed off Schreient and have Prodigy bring down every standing structure in the area. The boy was more powerful than he had been touted to be; the perfect weapon against the SS.

"Fujimiya, Kudou," the tall American greeted the two men. "Looks like we have a small problem."

"A small problem," Yohji sputtered. "You call this a small problem? I'd hate to see what you consider a big problem."

"Yohji," Aya said, stepping between the two men. "I agree with Crawford, if it doesn't interfere with them completing a mission, then we've got no complaints." He held his hand up to stall the words he knew were going to come spilling out of both Yohji's and Ken's mouths. "I've known about their relationship since almost the beginning and see nothing wrong with it. He's kept our secret."

"Ah," was all the leggy blonde could respond. He moved closer to Aya as Schuldig began drooling over his body.

Aya glared at the obnoxious German. He wrapped an arm around his lover's waist and gave the insufferable redhead a patented _'Shi-ne'_ glance and growled "Mine" at him.

"Schuldig, back down," Crawford snapped. "We're just here to collect Nagi and then we're leaving. Go gather up Farfarello and head to the car. Nagi," he said turning away from the other team. "We're leaving."

"Yes, sir," he answered and got unsteadily to his feet. "I'll call you when I can."

"I'll be waiting," Omi responded as he reached a hand out to help the other boy.

Nagi shook his head and followed after his leader, shooting the occasional look backward at the boy who had saved his life. Omi waved to him and then turned back to face Yohji and Ken.

"What the fuck was that?" Yohji said, pulling a somehow dry cigarette from the inner pocket of his mission duster. He lit the white stick and took in a long, sensual toke of the smoke.

"I believe our dear, sweet Omi has a boyfriend," Aya said, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Are they having sex?"

"Quite probably," came the quiet answer.

"Oh, gods," Yohji choked out around the lungful of smoke he had just taken in. "Chibi sex! They're having down and dirty chibi sex!"

The tall blonde's distress and words made the two older men laugh, leaving a very embarrassed Omi to flounder around and find the words to express his dismay.

"Yohji!" was the only thing that came out. Then his breath caught in his throat as the sun broke over the horizon, lighting the ruins with a gentle, golden light.

La Fin


End file.
